LIBRARY  OF  PRINCETON 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


THE   SERMONS 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER, 

IN  / 

Plymouth  Churchy  Brooklyn, 

FROM  VERBATIM  REPORTS  BY  T.  J.  ELLINWOOD. 

"PLYMOUTH    PULPIT," 

THIRD   SERIES: 

SEPTEMBER,    1869— MARCH,   1870. 


LI^RARY_OF  PRINCETON 


lv,rUl      1    8      '^•^• 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


NEW-YORK  : 

J.   B.    FORD  &   COMPANY,   27   PARK  PLACE. 

I  872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

J.    B.    FORD    A   CO., 
in  the-  CJ«irK>  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


L 


PKEFACE. 


In  this  volume,  sermons  expounding  the  divine  nature  and  un- 
folding the  higher  forms  of  Chiistian  expeiience  predominate.  The 
natm-e  of  Christ,  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spiiit,  the  doctiine  of  the 
Tiinity,  have  special  prominence. 

But  other  sermons,  selected  from  a  Made  range  of  topics,  accom- 
pany these ;  and  it  is  hoped  that  every  one  may  find  in  this  volume 
insti-uction  or  consolation  suited  to  his  special  need. 

HENRY  WARD   BEECHER. 

March  15,  1870. 


CONTENTS. 


^  Page. 

■«—  I.    Watohftjlnbss  (Mark  xiv-  38) 7. 

Lesson  :  Psalm  Ixu.    Hymns*  :  Nos.  199,  666,  657. 
II.     Paul  AND  Demetrius  (Acts  xix.  23-41)        ....  21. 

Lesson:  Psalm  Ixii.    Hymns:  Kos.  907,  "  Shining  Shore,"  1163. 
m.    Consolations  of   the    Suffering  of  Christ.     (2  Cor.   i.   5 ; 

Heb.  ii.  18) 37  ■ 

Lesson  :  Heb.  2.    Hymns  :  40,  1235. 
IV.    Treasure  that  Cannot  be  Stolen  (Matt,  vi,  19,  20     .        .  49 

Lesson  :  Matt.  vi.  19-34.    Hymns  :  816,  898,  907. 

V.    Bearing,  but  not  Overborne  (John  x-ix.  17)   .        .        .        .        67* 
Lesson  :  John  i.  1-18.    Hymns  :  660,  284,  770. 

YI.     The  Holt  Spirit  (Acts  xix.  6) 83  • 

Lesson  :  Acts  ii.  1-40.    Hymns  :  162,  5y7,  755. 

Vn.     Ideal  Standards  of  Duty  (Rom.  iii.  4) 104 

Lesson  :  Kom.  ii.  1-16.    Hymns  :  847,  1040, 1353. 

Vni.     Faults  (James  v.  16) 117 

Lesson  :  James  v.    Hymns  :  255,  668,  1237. 
IX.    The  Comforting  God  (2  Thess.  ii.  16,  17) 133 

Lesson  :  Heb.  xi.  1-17.    Hymns  :  217,  878. 
X.    TiiK  Name  above  Every  Name  (Phil.  ii.  9.) .        .        .        .  149 

Lesson  :  Rev.  v.    Hymns  :  132,  .381,  551. 

XI.    National  Unity  (Isaiah  xi.  12,  13) 163- 

Lesson  :  Psalm  cvii.    Hymn  :  130. 
XII.    Social  Obstacles  to  Religion  (Matt.  x.  86)  .        .        .        .  181 . 

Lesson  :  Matt  x.  32^.    Hymns  :  364,  633,  "  Shining  Shore." 

XIII.    Christ,  the  Deliverer  (Rom.  vii.  24,  25) 197 , 

Lesson  :  Rom.  vi.    Hymns  :  199,  243,  238. 

XrV.    The  God  of  Pity  (Psahn  ciii.  13,  14) 213 

Lesson  :  Psalm  ciii.    Hymns  :  284, 128, 102. 
XV.    Sin  Against  the  Holy  Ghost  (Matt.  xii.  31,  32)       .        .        .      231 
Lesson  :  Isaiah  v.  1-26.    Hymns  :  639,  735,  690. 

XVI.    Inheritance  of  the  Meek  (Matt.  v.  5) 347. 

Lesson  :  Matt.  v.  1-16.    Hymns  :  655,  297,  288. 
XVII.    Memoui.vls  op  Divine  Mercy  (1  Sam.  vii.  12)  .        .        .        .      263 
Lebson  :  2  Cor.  v.    Hymnb  :  199,  907. 

♦  Plymouth  Collection. 


VI  CONTENTS. 

XVIII.     The  Viotoriotts  Power  of  Faith  (Luke  xvii.  5)  .        .        .  279 

Lesson  :  Luke  x.  23-42.    Hymns  :  203, 115,  564. 
XIX.     The  Peace  of  God  (Phil.  iv.  7) 297 

Lesson  :  PMl.  ii.   Hymns  :  28G,  898, 1259. 

I.      XX.    Coming  to  One's  Self  (Luke  xv.  17) 315 

Lesson  :  Col.  iii.    Hymns  ;  255,  845,  868. 

XXI.     Fragments  of  Instruction  (John  vi.  12) 331 

Lesson  :  Eccl.  xii.    Hymns  :  246,  805,  1353. 
XXII.     The  Substance  of  Christianity  (Eph.  iii.  17  - 19)       .        .  351 

Lesson  ;  Eph.  iii.    Hymns  ;  100,  216,  551. 

XXm.    'SoiiiTUAL  Blindness  (2  Cor.  iv.  3,  4) 367 

A.'fesgON  ;  Kom.  ii.    Hymns  ;  31,  484,  627. 

XXIV.     Perfect  Peace  (1  Pet.  i.  8,  9) 385 

Lesson  :  Gal.  iii.    Hymns  ;  365,  430,  1262. 

XXV.    Preparation  for  Death  (Mark  xiii.  33) 403 

Lesson  :  Matt.  xxiv.  42-51.    Hymns  ;  162,  142,  346. 
.  XXVI.     Fidelity  to  Conviction  (.John  ix.  35  -  38)  .         .        .        .  421 

Lesson  ;  Psalm  ciii.  1-18.    Hymns  :  1278,  1291, 133S. 


I. 

Watchfulness. 


WATCHFULNESS. 


•  "Watch  ye  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation." — Maek.  xiv.  38. 


Of  all  the  passages  of  the  New  Testament  which  enjom  watchful- 
ness— and  they  are  veiy  numerous — I  have  selected  this,  partly  because 
it  is  the  language  of  om*  Master,  and  partly  because  it  gives  the  reason 
for  watchfulness — lest  ye  enter  into  temptation. 

Undoubtedly  this  is  a  militaiy  figure ;  although  watching  may  be  a 
iomestic  figui-e,  ordinarily  it  is  militaiy. 

A  tower,  a  castle,  a  fort,  is  not  content  with  simply  the  strength  of 
its  walls,  and  its  various  defences.  Sentinels  are  placed  all  around 
about  it,  and  they  walk  both  night  and  day,  and  look  out  on  eveiy 
Bide  to  descry  any  approaching  danger,  that  the  soldiers  within  may 
put  themselves  at  once  in  a  condition  to  receive  attack. 

Still  more  are  a  moving  army  watchful,  whether  upon  the  march,  or  in 
the  camp.  They  throw  out  advanced  guai'ds.  The  picket  line  is  es- 
tablished by  night  and  by  day.  Men  are  set  apart  to  watch  on  pm-pose 
that  no  enemy  may  take  them  unawai'es ;  that  they  may  constantly  be 
prepai'ed  for  whatever  incm-sion  the  chances  of  war  may  bring  upon 
them. 

It  is  taken  for  gi'anted  that  we  are  making  a  campaign  thi'ough  life. 
The  assumption,  all  the  way  thi'ough,  is,  that  we  are  upon  an  enemy's 
ground,  and  that  we  aa-e  sun'ounded,  or  liable  to  be  smTOimded,  with 
adversaries  who  will  rush  in  upon  us,  and  take  us  captives  at  unawai'es. 
We  ai-e  commanded,  therefore,  to  do  as  soldiers  do,  whether  in  fort,  or 
in  camp — to  be  always  vigilant,  always  prepared. 

This  exhortation  and  teaching  i-uns  thi'ough  the  scriptures  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  Dormancy,  carelessness,  heedlessness,  false  security, 
— we  ai-e  wai-ned  against  them  continually.  Vigilance,  activity,  watch- 
fulness,— we  ai-e  exhorted  to  these  continually.     Our  Master  intei-preta 

Sunday  Evenctg,  May  16,  1869.— Lesson  :  Psa.  LXn.  Hymns  (Plymontli  Cvlleotion)  i 
Nos.  199,  666,  657. 


/, 


8  WATCHFULNESS. 

a  pait  of  this  text  in  the  very  few  petitions  that  belong  to  what  is  callecl 
"The  Lord's  Prayer." 

Here  he  says,  "Watch,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation" — as  though 
that  would  often  decide  the  moral  condition  of  a  man ;  as  though  his 
safety  requii-ed  that  he  should  not  go  into  temptation,  and  should  not 
lie  exposed  to  temptation.  One  petition  in  the  Lord's  prayer  is, 
"Lead  us  not  into  temptation" — as  though  we  should  be  safe  if 
we  were  not  led  into  it,  and  as  though  our  safety  would  be  doubtful 
if  we  were.  No  man  knows,  when  he  is  led  into  temptation,  whether 
he  wiU  come  out  safe.  "A  prudent  man,"  we  are  told,  "foreseeth 
the  evil,  and  hideth  himself;  but  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  pun- 
ished." And  that  passage  of  Paul  in  Ephesians,  "Put  on  the  whole 
armor  of  God,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  withstand  in  the  evil  day,  and 
having  done  aU,  stand,"  is  to  the  same  pm-port.  Look  out  for  danger, 
and  prepare  for  it,  and  avoid  it — that  is  the  spirit  of  the  injunction  of  the 
whole  New  Testament,  as  it  was  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  dangers 
arising  from  men's  appetites  and  passions  cannot  be  met,  on  the  whole, 
in  any  other  way  so  well  as  by  a  beforehand  preparation. 

When  passions  are  really  aroused,  there  are  few  that  can  cope  with 
them.  They  must  spend  then*  fuiy ;  and  then  we  must  gather  up  our- 
selves the  best  way  we  may  aftei-wards.  Here  is  the  fii'st  position 
which  I  take  in  respect  to  watching. 

They  that  are  called — and  who  is  not,  in  some  form? — to  cany  his 
passions  and  appetites  safely  through  life,  can  do  it  only  on  the  theory 
of  foreseeing  the  chcumstances  in  which  they  ai'e  liable  to  have  their 
appetites  and  j)assions  aroused,  and  preparing  beforehand  to  meet  those 
cii'cumstances.  This  is  the  only  way  in  which  a  man  can  hope  to  go 
safely  and  secui'ely.  The  theory  by  which  a  man  thi'ows  off  temptation, 
is,  that  he  rouses  up  in  his  mind  one  feeling  to  counteract  another.  K 
a  strong  feeling  is  developed  in  a  chUd,  or  in  an  adult,  you  cannot  by  a 
mere  act  of  the  will  suppress  that  feeling.  The  will  must  rouse  up 
some  other  feeling  which  shall  disjjossess  it.  And  so  the  mind  is  made 
up  of  antagonistic,  opposite  feelings  all  the  way  tlu'ough. 

Where  passions  ai"e  excited,  they  are  inherently  so  strong  that  there 
is  no  other  overmastering  power  in  the  mind.  Call  on  conscience — but 
conscience  is  feebler  than  passion.  Call  on  reason — but  reason  has  no 
opportunity  to  act  under  the  blinding  influence  of  the  apj^etites.  Call 
on  self-respect,  on  resolution,  on  whatever  else  you  may — but  when 
the  passions  are  fairly  aroused  they  overmaster  all  resistance  in  the 
mind,  and  have  a  clean  sweep.  If,  therefore,  they  are  to  be  restrained, 
it  must  be  by  preparing  beforehand.  For  you  might  just  as  well  at* 
tempt  to  let  a  spark  fall  upon  powder,  and  tlien  take  care  of  the 
jtowdov,  as  to  let  temptation  fall  upon  the  passions,  thinking  that 


WATCHFULNESS.  9 

then  you  can  bind  thtra.  Beforehand  or  never!  No  repentance 
does  you  any  good  that  does  not  prepare  you  by  watchfulness  to  resist 
temptation.  Very  httle  is  done,  if  one  sins  tlu-ough  the  passions, 
by  simply  praying,  and  asking  to  be  forgiven.  That  is  well  in 
its  way ;  but  as  a  preventive,  unless  it  inspnes  a  man  to  inquire  how 
he  felt,  and  what  was  the  way  in  which  the  enemy  approached, 
and  prepares  him  for  the  approach  again,  no  repentance  is  of  any 
practical  use.  Passions  are  snares;  and  the  way  to  extract  a  man's 
self  from  snai*es,  is  not  to  be  caught  in  them.  Passions  are  lions  in 
ambush;  and  the  way  to  deliver  one's  self  from  the  lions  is  to  take 
another  path,  and  go  where  they  are  not.  Passions  are  tigers  that  lurk 
on  the  corners  and  in  the  dark  recesses  of  the  street.  Take  another 
street.  That  will  take  you  out  of  the  tiger's  reach.  Passions  are  dan- 
gerous, like  pitfalls,  like  precipices.  It  is  not  safe  to  get  near  them. 
You  are  safe  if  you  give  them  a  wide  berth.  You  do  not  know  that 
you  are  safe  if  you  do  not.  And  who  is  he  that  has  not  passions?  They 
are  the  overmastering  part  in  many  natm-es.  They  swell,  as  the  tides 
swell.  They  bm-n  as  the  fires  burn.  They  sweep  as  storms  and  winds 
sweep.  And  no  man  can  perform  his  duty  to  himself — certainly  not  to 
his  God — ^who  does  not  understand  that  the  battle  of  the  passions  is  one 

which  must  be  watched.  It  is  the  battle  in  which  watchfulness  is 
wisdom. 

But  men  are  not  alike  as  regards  then- dangers.  Some  men's  tempta- 
tions are  not  from  the  side  of  the  passions,  because  they  have  thin 
necks  and  heads,  comparatively  speaking.  Then-  temptations  lie  in  the 
du-ection  of  selfishness  and  pride.  They  ai-e  not  subject  to  violent 
bursts  of  anger.  They  are  not  cruel.  They  are  not  likely  to  be  car- 
ried away  with  gluttony.  They  are  not  likely  to  be  overflowed  with 
lus'  Their  temptations  steal  in  upon  them  in  the  form  of  avarice, 
and  gi-asping,  gi-eedy  desu-es.  They  are  always  looking  after  their 
own  interests. 

These,  in  another  way,  just  as  much  as  those,  require  to  be  overmas- 
tered, not  in  the  point  and  at  the  moment  of  temptation,  but  before- 
hand. They  are  to  be  watched.  A  man  is  not  to  allow  himself  to 
come  under  the  influenceof  those  circumstances  inwhich  these  peculiar 
dangers  of  his  temperament  and  his  disposition  will  be  developed ;  and 
(very  man  must,  in  the  matter  of  watchfulness,  understand  his  own 
self.  Your  weakness  is  not  where  another  man's  is.  You  are  weak  in 
one  way — that  is,  you  are  strong  in  one  way;  and  he  is  weak  in  another 
way — that  is,  he  is  strong  in  another  way.  For  what  we  popularly 
call  weakness,  is  strength. 

If  a  man  has  temper  so  strong  that  it  is  all  the  time  running  away 
with  him,  we  say  that  man's  weakness  is  in  his  temuer!     If  a  man 


10  WATCHFULNESS. 

has  mightiness  of  avarice,  men  say  of  him  "  He  has  gi'eat  weakness  in 
the  way  of  stinginess !" 

Yom*  excess  of  disposition,  your  strength  of  passion,  and  your 
temptableness  are  not  the  same  as  yom-  neighbor's.  Therefore,  it  is 
quite  fooHsh  for  you  to  watch  as  your  neighbor  watches.  Every  man 
must  set  his  watch  according  to  his  own  disj)Osition,  and  know  his  own 
disposition  better  than  anybody  else  knows  it. 

K  a  fort  is  situated  so  that  the  weakest  side  is  on  the  east,  the  com- 
mander, if  he  is  wise,  will  set  his  watch  there.  He  says,  "I  believe 
that  if  I  defend  this  point,  nothing  can  do  me  any  harm,"  and  sets  his 
watch  there.  But  suppose  the  commander  of  a  fort  whose  weak  place 
was  ou  the  west  side,  should  put  his  force  all  on  the  east  side !  If  he 
would  defend  his  fort  successfully  he  should  put  his  soldiers  where  it  Ls 
weak. 

Here  is  a  man  that  watches  against  pride  ;  but  yom*  temptation  is 
on  the  side  of  vanity.  It  will  not  do  for  you  to  watch  against  pride, 
because  pride  is  not  your  besetting  sin.  There  is  many  a  man  who  flat- 
ters himself  that  because  his  neighbor  has  corrected  his  faults  by  gain- 
ing a  victoiy  over  pride,  all  he  himself  needs  to  do  is  to  gain  a  victoiy 
over  pride.  He  has  no  difficulty  in  that,  because  he  is  not  tempted  in 
his  pride.  It  is  very  easy  to  watch  against  an  enemy  that  does  not  ex- 
ist. It  is  very  easy  to  gain  a  victoiy  where  there  is  no  adversary. 
And  if  a  man  is  very  proud,  and  watches  against  vanity,  how  can  he 
ho/)e  to  escape  from  harm?  And  if  a  man  is  not  proud,  and  he  watches 
against  pride,  what  advantage  wUl  he  gain  by  it  ? 

The  point  where  you  are  liable  to  be  assaulted  is  generally  the 
point  that  you  leave  most  exposed.  Men  are  not  willing  to  admit  that 
they  are  assailable  and  vincible  in  the  point  where  they  are  weakest 
There  is  something  humiliating  in  it.  Men  do  not  like  to  admit  that 
they  are  as  vain  as  a  peacock.  Men  do  not  like  to  say,  "  I  am  as  silly 
and  as  foolish  as  a  monkey."  They  will  say  it  of  theh  neighbor,  but 
they  do  not  like  to  say  it  in  regard  to  themselves.  They  do  not  like  to 
even  confess  it  to  themselves  ;  and  they  certainly  do  not  like  to  confess 
it  to  any  friend.  And  yet,  every  man  must  guard  the  point  of  weak- 
ness in  himself  And  watchfulness  must  not  be  general,  or  vague,  or 
theoretical.  Neither  must  it  be  the  same  as  this  man's  or  that  man's, 
whose  weakness  is  different  from  yours.  Yom-  watch  must  be  set  over 
against  that  which  is  weak  in  you.  Ai-e  you  slow  of  tongue,  and 
reticent  ?  Then  you  do  not  need  to  set  a  watch  at  the  door  of  your 
mouth.  And  yet  men  generally  pride  themselves  on  such  watchfulness 
as  that.  If  a  man  has  an  excellence,  he  generally  reads  the  scripture 
and  the  pious  books  that  praise  that  excellence.  If  a  man  has  a  special 
virtue,  he  usually  increases  that,  and  insists  upon  it,  and  seems  to  be 


WATCHFULNESS.  11 

afraid  that  that  is  the  side  he  is  going  to  sin  on.  Thus,  a  man  who 
is  ah-eady  careful  is  always  talking  about  pinidence.  Oh !  prudence  is 
such  a  virtue  in  him !  A  man  who,  having  no  disposition  to  talk,  and 
BO  temjjtation  to  talk,  manages  his  tongue,  is  the  man  who  shakes  his 
head  at  careless  people,  and  is  proud  to  say  that  he  has  taken  good  care 
of  his  tongue,  and  does  not  often  sin  in  that  way.  God  made  your 
tongue  heavy,  and  that  is  the  reason  it  does  not  wag.  It  is  not  because 
you  have  a  special  viilue,  but  because  you  avail  yourself  of  a  natural 
peculiarity.     And  you  pride  yourself  upon  that ! 

It  is  the  interest  of  every  man  not  to  hide  from  himself  his  ailment. 
What  would  you  think  of  a  man  that  was  sick,  and  attempted  to  make 
himself  believe  that  it  was  his  foot  that  was  ailing,  when  it  was  hia 
heart  ?  Suppose  a  man  should  come  to  his  physician  and  have  him  ex- 
amine the  wrong  eye,  and  pay  for  the  physician's  prescription, 
founded  on  the  belief  that  his  eye  was  shghtly,  but  not  much  damaged, 
and  should  go  away  saying,  "I  am  a  great  deal  happier  than  I 
was,"  although  the  doctor  had  not  looked  at  the  diseased  eye  at  all  ?  If 
a  man  should  have  a  cancer,  or  a  deadly  sore,  on  one  arm,  and  should  re- 
fuse to  let  the  physician  see  that,  but  should  show  him  the  well  arm,  he 
would  imitate  what  men  do  who  use  all  deceits  and  delusions  to  hide 
their  moral  sores  and  weaknesses  and  faults,  as  far  as  possible,  from 
themselves,  from  their  physician,  from  all  persons,  and  then  congi'atu- 
late  themselves  that  they  are  not  in  danger. 

Watchfulness  requu'es  that  a  man  should  be  honest,  and  should 
know  where  he  is,  and  where  his  danger  is.  Let  others  set  their  watch 
where  they  need  it,  and  you  set  yours  where  you  need  it.  Each  man's 
watchfulness  should  be  according  to  his  temperament  and  constitution. 
And  that  is  not  all.  Every  man  should  know  what  are  the  circum- 
Btances,  the  times  and  the  seasons,  in  which  he  is  liable  to  sin.  To  make 
this  matter  entu'ely  practical,  there  are  a  gi-eat  many  who  neglect  to 
watch  until  the  proper  times  and  seasons  for  watching  have  passed  away. 
Suppose  your  fault  is  of  your  tongue?  Suppose  your  temper  takes  that 
as  a  means  of  giving  itself  au*  and  explosion  ?  With  one  man  it  is 
when  he  rises  in  the  morning;  and  before  breakfast  he  is  peculiarly  ner- 
vous and  sasceptible.  It  is  then  that  he  is  mitable.  It  is  then  that 
things  do  not  look  right.  And  it  is  then  that  the  boys  get  it,  and  the 
girls  get  it,  and  the  servants  get  it,  and  his  companion  gets  it,  and 
eveiybody  gets  it.  It  is  then,  before  he  has  had  his  coffee,  that  hia 
tongue,  as  it  were,  snaps,  and  throws  off  sparks  of  fire. 

With  another  man,  it  is  at  evening,  when  he  is  jaded,  and  wearied 
with  the  care  and  labor  of  the  day.  He  has  emptied  himself  of  nervous 
excitement,  and  left  only  excitability.  And  then  is  the  time  when  he  is 
liable  to  break  down  in  various  ways. 


12  WATCEFULNESb. 

Men  must  set  theii*  watch  at  the  time  when  the  enemy  is  accustomed 
to  come.  Indians  usually  make  theii*  attack  at  three  or  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  when  men  sleep  soundest ;  and  that  is  the  time  to  watch 
against  Indians.  There  is  no  use  of  doing  it  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  They  do  not  come  then.  If  it  be  when  you  are  sick  that 
you  are  most  subject  to  malign  passions,  then  that  is  the  time  when  you 
must  set  your  watch.  Or,  if  it  be  when  you  are  well  that  the  tide  of 
blood  swells  too  feverishly  in  you,  then  that  is  the  time  when  you  must 
set  yoiu"  watch.  If  at  one  time  of  the  day  more  than  another,  experi- 
ence has  shown  that  you  are  liable  to  be  tempted,  then  in  that  part  of 
the  day  you  must  be  on  your  guard. 

They  that  watch  with  the  sick  know  that  on  the  tm-ning  of  the  night 
is  the  critical  and  perilous  period.  Somewhere  between  midnight  and 
morning  more  persons  die  than  at  any  other  time  in  the  twenty-four 
hoxu's.  There  is  something  in  the  temperatm-e,  or  in  the  magnetic  con- 
ditions, at  that  time,  which  renders  death  more  liable ;  and  therefo.*e 
watchers  bestow  sjiecial  attention  upon  patients  at  that  time. 

Everybody  has  his  hours,  his  times  and  seasons,  and  his  circum- 
stances ;  and  eveiy  man  should  learn  them  for  himself ;  and  every  man 
should  set  his  watch  then  and  there.  And  frequently,  by  watching  at 
the  right  time,  you  can  easily  carry  yourself  over  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Men  are  required,  also,  to  watch  by  reason  of  the  external  condi- 
tions into  which  they  are  thrown.  And  men  are  very  unlike  in  thia 
also  Some  men  are  at  home  veiy  liable  to  temptation ;  but  when  they 
go  abroad  they  are  braced  uj),  and  are  not  so  open  to  trial.  I.  have 
known  persons  who  were  intolerable  at  home,  who  abused  their  wife, 
and  abused  then*  childi'en,  and  seemed  to  think  that  home  was  made 
for  a  man  to  lay  down  watch  in,  and  be  as  ugly  as  he  felt  like  being; 
but  whose  love  of  approbation,  or  interest,  when  they  went  away  from 
home  seemed  to  restrain  them.  I  have  seen  men  who  were  most 
agreeable  on  the  street,  and  wherever  you  met  them,  until  they  got 
home.     And  if  a  man  is  so  constituted,  he  must  set  his  watch  at  home. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  many  men  who  seem  to  be  cross  and 
crabbed  away  from  home.  Then-  sharp,  keen,  twinkling  eye  watches 
for  advantage.  If  you  met  them  on  the  street,  or  in  the  strifes  of  busi- 
ness, you  would  say  that  they  were  sapless  and  hard ;  and  yet,  when 
they  come  home,  how  gentle  and  generous  they  are !  There  is  many  a 
man  that  has  no  reputation  in  the  street,  who  is  idolized  by  those  who 
see  him  within  the  walls  of  the  household.  If,  then,  a  man's  tempta- 
tions ai-e  away  from  home,  there  is  where  he  must  watch. 

The  influences  that  come  up  around  us  from  social  connections  also 
determine  this,  largely.  There  are  many  men  who  are  like  a  ship 
agi-ound.     When  the  tide  is  out  she  does  not  leak — of  com-se  not;  but 


WATCHFULNESS.  13 

as  soor  as  the  tide  comes  up  and  suiTOunds  her,  she  leaks  at  eveiy  seam, 
and  is  filled  with  water.  And  so  there  are  men  who,  when  the  tide  is 
up,  ai-e  perfectly  whelmed,  but  who,  when  the  tide  goes  out,  are  perfectly- 
free. 

Now,  men  must  see  all  these  things  respecting  themselves.  The 
pulpit  cannot  tell  them  about  them.  It  is  every  man's  business  to  know 
himself  a-c-curately,  and  to  know  how  to  cany  himself  morally  from  bad 
to  good,  from  good  to  better,  and  from  better  to  best.  And  it  must  be 
by  foresight  and  vigilant  watching. 

We  see  that  watching  requu-es  the  knowledge  of  one's  own  nature, 
and  of  the  times  and  seasons  and  cu'cumstances  in  which  his  moods  and 
disj^ositions  and  attributes  are  to  act. 

In  view  of  this  brief  exposition,  I  remark,  first,  upon  the  condition 
of  a  man  who  has  no  plan  of  moral  life ;  who  has  no  knowledge  of  him- 
self; who  has  no  care ;  who  never  keeps  account.  We  know  very  well 
what  would  be  the  career  of  any  man  in  business  who  bought  without 
consideration,  and  sold  without  calculation  ;  who  gave  notes  and  made 
no  record ;  who  ran  up  debt  upon  debt,  and  forgot  to-day  what  were 
the  transactions  of  yesterday.  How  long  before  such  a  man  would 
come  to  banki'uptcy?  In  business,  if  it  is  to  be  successful,  there  must 
be  system,  not  only,  but  foresight ;  and  not  only  foresight,  but  constant 
watching  on  the  j^art  of  the  man  of  business  respecting  his  affairs.  And 
where  any  business  man  is  lacking  in  foresight,  and  lacking  in  know- 
ledge of  its  conditions,  it  is  only  a  question  of  time.  He  is  sure,  sooner 
or  later,  to  come  to  disaster. 

And  if  that  be  so  in  the  merchandise  of  things,  however  precious 
the  commodities  may  be,  how  much  more  is  it  so  in  the  merchandise  of 
qualities !  How  can  a  man  take  so  comjjlex  a  thing  as  his  own  soul, 
and  carry  it  safely  in  a  world  where  it  is  suiTounded  and  acted  up^n  by 
varied  influences ;  where  the  imagination  is  so  soliciting ;  where  the 
sentiments  ai'e  played  upon ;  where  the  very  air  seems  to  breathe  iipon 
us  influences  good  or  malign  ?  How  can  a  man  take  all  his  ijstincts 
and  passions  and  appetites  and  cai-ry  them  freely  thi'ough  the  world, 
utterly  thoughtless  of  what  shall  be  done  to  him,  of  what  he  is,  and  of 
what  he  is  to  become?  And  yet,  this  is  the  fate  of  thousands.  Tliere 
are  thousands  of  pei-sons  who  ai-e  hving  so  habitually.  They  think 
themselves  to  be  very  good,  because  they  ai-e  not  very  bad.  Many  persons 
have  no  positive  life  oi-  chm-acter.  They  never  think;  they  never  plan; 
(hey  never  eagerly  fore-look ;  they  never  vigilantly  guard.  They  are 
floating  through  life,  and  taking  whatever  fate  may  befall  them.  Tliis 
IS  not  wise,  our  Master  being  witness,  who  said,  "Watch,  lest  ye  enter 
uito  temptation."     You  cannot  afford  to  be  tempted.     You  certainly 


14  WATCHFULNESS. 

cannot  afford  to  be  tempted  under  cii-cumstances  where  you  will  breas 
down. 

We  see,  too,  how,  outside  of  that,  this  overweening  confidence  de- 
stroys men.  A  man  that  does  not  believe  he  is  vincible,  will  not  watch. 
If  a  man  believes  that  he  is  invincible  under  assault,  why  should  he 
watch  ?  Men  have  an  extravagant  estimate  of  then-  own  vutues  and 
excellences.  The  result  is  that  they  are  frequently  not  half  so  strong 
as  they  think  they  are.  I  know  that  experience  in  life  makes  one  more 
and  more  reverent  of  that  sentence  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which  I  have 
quoted — "Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  When  we  see  what  calam- 
ities befall  men,  we  shudder,  and  thank  God  that  we  were  never  left  to 
such  cu'cumstances.  If  that  man  fell  under  such  a  pressure,  you  say, 
"  I  thank  God  that  he  did  not  put  me  where  that  man's  foot  slid.  I  did 
not  think  there  was  much  danger  in  that  du-ection ;  but  if  that  man 
was  not  able  to  bear  the  temptation,  how  do  I  know  that  I  should  not 
go  down  as  he  did  f  To  be  sm-e,  a  man  ought  not  to  be  a  coward ; 
but  he  is  not  wise  to  have  such  an  overweening  estimate  of  his  power 
in  the  day  of  temptation,  as  not  to  humble  himself,  and,  reverently, 
every  day,  say,  "  God  deliver  me  from  being  tempted."  He  is  not  wise 
who  says,  "  I  am  too  straight  ever  to  be  crooked ;  I  am  too  strong  ever 
to  be  bent ;  I  am  too  tough  ever  to  be  broken :  let  temptation  play 
about  me ;  I  have  a  lightning-rod  of  resolution."  By-and-by  will  come 
the  flash,  and  strike  clear  thi'ough  to  the  foundation  of  the  house. 

No  man  can  afford,  therefore,  living  in  such  a  world  as  this,  with 
the  an-  full  of  invisible  influences,  and  with  dangers  thundering  on  every 
side,  to  say,  "  I  am  in  no  danger ;  or,  if  there  are  dangers,  I  am  just 
the  champion  that  can  meet  them  and  overcome  them."  Such  men  are 
twisted  off  and  thi-own  down,  as  a  tornado  twists  off  the  stalwart  oak 
and  throws  it  in  an  instant  to  the  ground. 

But  some  men  will  say,  "Is  there,  then,  such  poor  stuff?  Is  there  no 
Buch  thing  as  a  vutue  that  is  able  to  stand  in  the  day  of  battle  ?  Is 
there  no  heroism  ?  Ai-e  men  to  creep  into  then-  holes  ?  Ai-e  men  to 
shelter  themselves  behind  bomb-proofs  ?  Is  this  a  world  in  which  sin 
is  the  only  thing  that  can  go  openly,  and  in  which  tinith  and  righteous-* 
ness  must  always  fight  behind  bulwarks?"  It  is  a  world  in  which  men, 
at  least,  when  they  are  veterans,  may  ventm'e  as  they  did  not  in  youth. 
It  certainly  is  a  world  in  which  viitue  is  not  to  be  cowardly.  But  it  is  not 
to  be  presumptuous ;  it  is  not  to  be  extra  hazardous.  Although  when  the 
path  of  duty  is  once  marked  out,  no  man  should  sin-ink  from  it  because 
it  is  dangerous.  For  providence  never  puts  a  man  on  any  path  of  duty 
without  making  i^rovision  for  his  safety.  And  it  is  always  safe  to  fol- 
low the  line  of  duty  where  it  is  marked  out.  But  it  is  not  safe  for  any 
man  to  provoke  temptation,  and  thi'ow  himself  in  its  way.      Therefore^ 


WATCHFULNESS.  15 

men  that  are  true,  pure  and  upright,  sin  against  theii'  own  souls  when 
they  purposely  and  self-confidently  venture  under  the  influence  oi  temp- 
tation. There  are  a  great  many  j)ersons  that  are  young  in  conscience, 
that  are  inexperienced,  and  that  are  to  a  certain  extent  innocent,  who 
permit  themselves  to  do  what  the  riper  experience  even  of  bad  men 
would  never  permit  them  to  do.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  dallying 
with  temptation.  Many  a  maiden  will  insensibly,  and  step  by  step, 
allow  herself  to  be  led  to  things  that,  if  not  wi'ong,  are  yet  so  near  to 
it  that  they  lie  in  its  very  twilight ;  and  she  is  all  the  time  excusing  to 
herself  such  permissions  and  such  dalliance,  and  saying,  "  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  do  wrong.  I  shall  in  due  time  recover  myself."  There  is  many 
a  man  who  takes  the  serpent  into  his  hand,  because  it  is  lithe,  and 
gi'aceful,  and  burnished,  and  beautiful,  and  plays  with  that  which  in 
some  unguarded  moment  will  strike  him  with  its  poison  fangs ;  and  it  ia 
poor  excuse,  when  this  dalliance  has  led  him  to  the  very  edge  of 
temptation,  and  has  struck  the  fatal  poison  into  him,  for  him  to  say,  "  I 
did  not  mean  to."  The  mischief  is  done.  The  damnation  is  to  come. 
And  it  is  poor  comfort  to  say,  "I  did  not  mean  to."  Pass  by  it;  come 
not  neai"  it ;  keep  far  from  it,  and  then  you  will  be  safe.  But  it  is  not 
safe  for  innocent,  or  inexperienced,  or  unconscious,  or  inconsiderate 
vutue,  to  go,  by  dalliance,  near  to  things  that  cany  in  them  the  very 
venom  of  Satan.  And  yet,  how  many  there  are  that  laugh,  and  are  gay, 
and  graceful,  with  a  thousand  quips  and  cranks,  and  beautiful  as  a 
bubble  that  rises  on  the  sea,  and  like  a  bubble  burst  in  a  moment ! 
"Watch,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation." 

There  are  a  great  many  persons  who  are  not  liable  to  the  tempta- 
tions and  destruction  which  come  from  the  inflammation  of  jDassion. 
There  are  a  gi'eat  many  persons  who  allow  themselves  to  follow  an  in- 
quisitive eye.  They  like  to  explore.  They  like  to  know  what  is  going 
on.  There  are  a  great  many  young  men  that  come  down  to  New 
York  who  like  to  see  what  gamblers  do,  and  have  a  great  interest  in 
going  into  then-  saloons  and  theii-  dens,  and  allowing  themselves  to 
nibble,  and  see  what  will  be  done  to  them.  There  are  a  gi'eat  many 
that  go  to  the  strange  woman's  house.  It  is  pure  curiosity  that  leads 
them  there  !  They  go  to  take  statistics.  There  are  a  great  many  that 
want  to  see  life  ;  and  what  they  mean  by  seeing  life,  is  seeing  rotten- 
ness. They  go  to  see  what  depravity  can  do.  They  go  to  filthy  dens. 
They  go  to  brutal  rings.  They  go  where  sport  means  cruelty,  and 
where  pleasure  means  lust — lust  that,  like  the  mud  of  the  unquiet  sea, 
cannot  rest.  They  go  to  see,  not  intending  harm.  And  yet,  in  the 
language  of  scripture,  the  "  dart  strikes  through  the  liver,"  of  hundi-eds 
and  thousands  who  deliberately  cany  themselves  within  the  sweep  of 
these  things. 


16  WATCHFULNESS. 

What  should  you  thmk  of  a  man  who,  coming  down  to  New  York, 
Bhould  say,  "  I  have  had  quite  an  experience  this  morning.  I  have 
been  up  to  one  of  the  shambles  where  they  were  butchering ;  and  I 
saw  them  knock  down  oxen,  and  saw  them  cut  their  throats,  and  saw 
the  blood  flow  in  streams  from  the  great  gashes.  I  spent  a  whole  half 
day  there,  looking  at  men  killing,  and  killing,  and  killing."  What 
would  you  say  of  a  man  that  said,  "  I  have  been  crawling  thi'ough  the 
sewers  under  the  street ;  for  I  want  to  know  what  is  at  the  bottom  of 
things  in  this  city  f  What  kind  of  curiosity  would  that  be  ?  What 
should  you  think  of  a  man  who  went  where  he  could  see  the  offal  of 
hospitals  and  dissecting  rooms,  and  went  wallowing  in  rottenness  and 
disease,  because  he  wanted  to  increase  his  knowledge  of  things  in 
general  ?  And  yet,  here  are  men  who  take  things  more  feculent,  more 
fetid,  more  foul,  more  damnable  and  dangerous — the  diseases,  the 
ulcers,  the  sores  and  the  filth  of  the  appetites  and  the  passions  ;  and  they 
will  go  wading  and  looking  at  things  that  a  man  should  shut  his  eyes 
on  if  they  were  providentially  thrown  before  him.  Why,  there  are 
some  things  that  it  is  a  sin  to  look  at  twice.  And  yet  there  are  men 
who  hunt  them  up  ! 

It  ie  said  in  one  of  the  old  "  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  that  the  devil 
found  a  young  man  at  a  theatre,  and  took  possession  of  him  ;  and  the 
gaint  rebuked  him,  and  said,  "  Why  do  you  take  one  of  the  Lord's 
childi-en  V  and  the  devil  said,  "  What  business  has  one  of  the  Lord's 
childi-en  on  my  gi-ound  V  It  is  thus  in  temptation.  Men  tempt  the 
devil.  They  send  a  message  to  him,  inviting  him  to  come  and  take 
them. 

Rising  from  these  youthful  indiscretions  and  depravities  and  destruc- 
tions, there  are  those  who  are  more  considerate,  and  are  less  liable  to 
these  inflammatory  temptations,  and  are  marking  then-  course  in  life  on 
this  principle  :  "  I  will  not  lie  ;  but  I  will  take  every  advantage  I  can, 
just  inside  of  lying."  And  they  run  then*  line  of  life  so  near  to  deceit 
that  it  is  equivocal.  It  is  very  difficult  to  tell,  sometimes,  which  side 
of  the  line  they  are  on.  They  are  conscientious  in  this.  They  say,  "I  do 
not  mean  to  he.  I  mean  to  take  care."  But  they  go  so  near  that  the. 
least  joggle  of  theii-  wheel,  if  they  rim  over  an  unexpected  stone,  throws 
them  over  the  line.  They  get  back  just  as  soon  as  they  can  ;  but  the 
mischief  is  done,  and  cannot  be  repah-ed. 

There  are  men  who  live  so  near  to  cheating  that  though  they  do  not 
mean  to  cheat,  cu-cumstances  cannot  bend  them  without  pushing  them 
over.  There  are  many  men  who  are  like  an  apple  tree  in  my  garden, 
whose  trunk  and  roots,  and  two-thirds  of  the  branches,  are  in  the  gar- 
den, and  one-thu-d  of  whose  branches  are  outside  of  the  garden  wall 
And  there  are  many  men  whose  trunk  and  roots  are  on  the  side  of 


WATCHFULNESS.  17 

honesty  and  ui)vightness,  but  who  are  living  so  near  the  garden  wall 
that  they  throw  then*  boughs  clear  over  into  the  highway  where  iniqui- 
ties tramp,  and  are  free. 

It  is  never  safe  for  a  man  to  run  so  near  to  the  line  of  right  and 
wrong,  that  if  he  should  lose  a  wheel  he  would  go  over.  It  is  like 
traveling  on  a  mountain  road  near  a  lirecipice.  You  should  keep  so 
fai*  fi'om  the  precipice  that  if  your  wagon  breaks  down  there  is  room 
enough  between  you  and  the  precipice.  Otherwise  you  cannot  be 
safe. 

There  are  a  great  many  men  who  are  pious  on  this  principle  :  "How 
economically  can  I  go  to  heaven?"  Viilue  is  to  them  like  gold  to 
a  traveler ;  and  they  say,  "  Now  I  want  to  spend  just  as  little  as  I  can. 
I  want  to  make  this  voyage  just  as  cheaply  as  possible."  Men  mean  to 
get  to  heaven  ;  but  they  do  not  mean  that  it  shall  cost  them  any  more 
virtue  than  they  can  possibly  help.  Everything  that  the  world  will 
allow  them  to  have  they  take.  They  practice  as  little  self-dejiial  as 
they  can  get  along  with,  hoping  that  there  will  be  an  equalization  of 
everything  in  the  world  to  come. 

Oh !  what  a  dangerous  and  degrading  condition  is  that  man  in 
whose  life  lies  right  along  the  twilight  line,  where  he  is  liable  at  any 
moment  to  be  cast  over  into  darkness. 

This  subject  comes  very  near  to  those  who  have  been  overtaken  by 
sins  and  fermenting  follies.  There  are  many  men  who  have  been 
caught  by  wrong,  and  are  honestly  striving  to  break  away  from  it. 
Thei*e  are  persons  who  are  receding  from  depths  of  wickedness. 
They  should  never  again  even  look  back  to  the  ground  from  which 
they  have  fled.  When  God  called  Lot's  family  from  Sodom,  and  told 
them  to  flee  for  theu'  lives,  he  said  to  them,  "Look  not  back."  It  was 
dangerous  for  a  person  fleeing  from  Sodom  even  to  look  back.  It  is  a 
gi-and  lesson  of  histoiy  hung  out  as  a  warning  to  us.  Such  lingoiing 
looks  cast  back  are  perilous.  They  tend  to  lead  people  again  to  that 
which  is  evil.  It  is  very  bad  for  a  man,  in  leaving  his  old  sin?  and 
temptations,  not  to  break  with  theni  so  that  they  are  his  enemies. 

A  man  that  has  been  in  the  habit  of  diinking  may  restore  himself ; 
but  he  must  put  that  habit  under  his  foot,  and  keep  it  there.  The  path 
toward  reformation  is  a  steeiJ  and  burning  one  ;  but  he  must  walk  in  it. 
For  a  man  who  has  once  become  addicted  to  di-inking,  to  allow  himself 
to  go  where  intoxicating  liquors  are  sold,  or  for  him  to  permit  him^'elf 
to  meddle  with  the  cup  in  the  slightest  degree,  is  insanity.  It  is  the 
veiy  infatuation  of  folly.  For  a  man  who  is  in  the  habit  of  indulging 
in  strong  diink,  there  is  only  one  safe  course.  ri«  should  keep  so  far 
from  temption  that  temptation  cannot  touch  him.     '  Leid  'is  not  intj* 


18  WATCHFULNEHS. 

temptation,"  sliould  be  the  prayer  of  such  a  man  from  day  to  day,  and 
from  night  to  night. 

Those  of  you  who  are  attempting  to  break  away  from  cards  and 
houses  of  infamy  ;  those  of  you  who  are  attempting  to  break  away  from 
those  lusts,  those  coiTupt  inclinations,  that  di'aw  men  into  perdition, 
should  never  go  near  your  old  companions,  or  yom*  old  haunts.  There 
is  but  one  single  way  that  you  can  escape  destruction ;  and  that  is  by 
shutting  yom*  eyes  to  the  past,  and  looking  forward  to  the  city  of  re- 
fuge.    Flee!    Flee! 

It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  dally.  To  be  a  good  man  is  an  earnest  bu- 
siness, and  ought  to  occupy  one's  whole  time.  You  can  better  af- 
ford to  be  half  and  half  in  any  thing  else  than  in  virtue,  and  religion,  and 
manliness.  You  are  to  be  wholly  for  God,  or  you  are  liable  to  be 
wholly  for  Satan. 

My  Christian  friends,  we  have  a  thousand  reasons  for  watching  lest 
we  enter  into  temptation.  We  have  experiences  every  day  of  those 
manifold  temptations  which  live,  and  are  like  dust  on  a  muTor,  or 
like  scratches  upon  its  back.  We  are  liable  to  fall  into  sins  and 
defilements,  as  well  as  other  men.  But  those  who  have  not  the  hope 
that  the  Christian  has,  those  who  are  in  the  midst  of  the  world,  are  met 
in  every  du-ection  by  fantasies  and  follies,  by  delusions  and  deceits,  and 
by  vehement  temptations  of  every  sense  and  every  appetite ;  and  how 
much  more  do  they  need  to  watch  and  to  pray  that  the  power  of  God  and 
the  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Ghost  may  come  down  upon  then-  soul  and 
quicken  it,  and  give  it  strength !  How  do  they  need  to  watch  and 
pray  lest  they  enter  into  temptation  ! 

May  God  keep  you  from  temptation ;  biit,  that  he  may  do  it,  keep 
yourselves  from  temptation — fi'om  its  places ;  from  its  materials  and  in- 
struments ;  from  its  circumstances ;  from  all  its  moods.  May  God 
inspire  you  with  that  vigilance  by  which  you  shall  foresee  your  own 
dangers,  and  eithei  avoid  them  or  meet  them  armed  for  victory. 


WATCHFULNESS.  19 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK 

We  render  thee  thanks,  our  Heavenly  Father,  for  the  great  mercies  with  which 
thou  hast  surrounded  us  ever  since  wo  were  born.  Thou  hast  not  been  rigorous,  but  Ion. 
icnt.  Thou  hast  not  given  by  measure,  but  overflowing,  surpassing  expectation.  Thou 
hast  created  us  royally.  Not  any  other  thing  is  created  with  such  powers,  and  with  such 
developments  of  them  all.  Nor  is  there  before  any  other  creature  upon  the  earth  open 
such  a  future  as  there  is  open  before  us ;  such  growth  in  every  part  of  the  mind ;  such 
richness  and  refinement;  and  such  promise  of  communion  with  spirits  above,  and  with 
thine  own  self.  We  are  not  of  the  clod,  though  wo  are  born  of  the  dust.  We  are  not  of 
the  animal  creation,  though  to  us  there  is  given  an  animal  body.  We  are  to  gain,  tri- 
umphantly, a  growth  out  of  it,  and  above  it,  and  beyond  it.  We  are  to  come  into  com- 
munion with  Thee.  The  foreshadowing  is  already  upon  us.  The  earlier  experiences  are 
upon  us.  What  is  the  wonder  of  the  meaning,  what  is  the  magnitude,  of  that  commu- 
nion, we  cannot  comprehend.  It  is  our  folly  to  believe  that  we  can  reason  of  these  higher 
things,  and  know  of  them  from  the  light  of  revelation,  and  the  slender  light  of  experience ; 
for  they  surpass  knowledge.  We  see  at  the  best  but  as  through  a  glass  darkly.  At  the 
very  highest  we  are  only  children  in  things  spiritual,  and  do  not  know  how  to  put  them 
together,  nor  how  to  draw  the  mighty  circle  of  everlasting  and  universal  truth.  Yet, 
though  we  cannot  give  the  bounds  and  the  outlines,  we  believe  that  we  are  coming  unto 
a  glorious  likeness  to  thee;  unto  higher  powers;  unto  nobler  disclosures;  tmto  a  more 
blessed  residence.  We  look  forward  to  that.  We  believe,  with  humble  faith,  that  by 
purity,  by  hope,  by  love,  we  are  culturing  ourselves  for  that  great  unknown  blessedness. 

O  Lord,  our  God!  behold  the  strife  and  the  turmoil  that  often  is  in  us.  Behold  the 
temptations  which  lie  in  wait  around  about  us.  Thou  dost  behold  whenever  we  call. 
Thou  hast  marked  the  path  before  us,  and  we  hear  thy  voice  saying,  "  This  is  the  way; 
walk  ye  in  it."'  If  we  stop  our  ears  and  will  not  hear;  if  we  blind  our  eyes,  and  will  not 
see,  and  rush  into  danger,  and  are  overwhelmed,  it  is  our  fault.  Thou,  O  God,  wouldst 
succor;  thou  wouldst  warn;  thou  hast  set  up  thy  law  as  a  guide  everywhere.  Grant,  wo 
Deseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  take  heed  to  our  ways.  Grant  that  we  may  walk  in  the 
paths  which  experience  shows  to  be  safe  and  profitable.  May  we  not  be  content.  Cer- 
tainly may  we  not  be  content  to  live  for  the  pleasures  of  life.  For  us  is  immortality. 
Why  should  we  live  as  though  the  world  were  all.  For  us  is  the  certainty  of  universal 
blessedness,  and  high  and  holy  companionship.  Why  should  we  say,  "Let  us  make 
three  tabernacles  for  us  here." 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  be  inspired  more  and  more  to  overcome  the 
present,  to  rise  superior  to  its  pleasures,  and  become  stronger  than  its  temptations.  May 
we  take  hold  of  the  invisible  world.  May  we  draw  something  of  our  life  from  it,  and 
rejoice  more  and  more  that  the  day  draws  near  when  the  disclosure  shall  come,  the 
shadows  shall  fall,  the  moining  shall  break,  and  we  shall  rise  into  eternal  knowledge  and 
blessedness. 

We  beseech  of  thee  to  have  compassion  upon  any  that  are  infirm;  upon  all  that  are 
m  trouble;  upon  all  that  wrestle  inwardly;  upon  all  those  that  arc  discouraged;  upon  all 
those  that  are  tempted;  upon  those  that  are  thralled  and  snared;  upon  those  that  are  sick 
and  heart-siek.  O  thou  Comforter!  be  thou  more  gracious  to  them  than  they  think. 
Raise  up  friends  for  the  friendless.  IJaise  up  those  that  shall  teach  the  ignorant.  May 
there  be  that  true  friendship  which  shall  draw  the  friendless  into  ways  of  virtue. 

Have  compassion  upon  those  that  are  tempted  more  than  they  are  able  to  bear.  May 
all  those  that  are  out  of  the  way  be  succored.  Draw,  we  beseech  of  thee,  more  and  more 
the  outcast  back  again  to  virtue  and  to  integrity.  Let  thy  kingdom  come  everywhere  in 
this  nation,  and  throughout  the  earth.  Hasten  that  glorious  day  of  prediction  when 
Christ  shall  take  unto  him  his  power,  and  reign  in  all  the  earth.  Grant  that  we,  by 
prayer  and  labor  and  faith,  m;iy  bring  on,  according  to  the  measure  of  our  strength, 
something  of  the  blessedness  of  that  day.  O  Lord!  how  long  shall  the  earth  wait  for 
thee?  Come,  Lord  Jesus.  Even  so,  come  quickly.  And  to  thy  name  shall  bo  the  prmse, 
forever  and  forever.    A  nun. 


20  WATCHFULNESS. 

PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Our  Father,  bless  the  word  of  exhortation  and  of  -vrarDiDg.  Deliver  those  that  are 
snared.  Bring  out  of  captivity  those  that  are  bound.  Save  those  that  are  in  the  thrall 
of  temptation.  Surely  is  the  net  spread  for  them,  and  they  run  into  it  more  foolishly 
than  the  bird  into  the  snare.  Grant  that  these  delusions  may  pass  away.  Give  virtue, 
give  power,  give  victoiy,  to  all  thy  people  that  are  called  to  this  warfare  of  the  soul. 

Grant,  >ve  beseech  of  thee,  that  there  may  be  some  to-night  that  shall  turn  away 
from  bad  courses,  from  indiscretions,  from  all  circumstances  of  danger.  And  bring  us 
all,  when  life  is  over,  to  that  blessed  land  where  there  shall  be  no  more  temptations ; 
where  there  shall  be  no. more  sickness;  where  there  shall  be  only  joy  and  purity  forever 
and  forever.    Amen. 


II. 
Paul  and  Demetrius. 


a 


PAUL  AID  DEMETEItlS, 


I  propofci"*  io  remark  upon  the  histoiy  contained  in  the  19th  chapter 
of  the  book  <jf  Acts,  beginning  with  the  23d  verse,  and  continuing  to 
the  end  of  the    hapter. 

This  scene  «ook  place  at  Ephesus,  in  Asia.  Paul,  together  with 
several  of  his  companions,  had  centered  there  for  no  inconsiderable  time. 
He  had  gone  from  place  to  place,  returning,  from  time  to  time,  and  making 
that,  as  it  were,  the  center  of  his  field.  And  his  labor  in  various  cities 
had  been  eminent,  as  yf^  learn  from  the  testimony  of  his  enemies,  and 
the  fruit  of  it  had  beeti  very  great — so  much  so  as  to  produce  a  very 
important  impression  upt>n  that  part  of  the  public  who  were  discerning 
and  forelooking. 

"And  the  same  time  there  ar^^e  no  small  stir  about  that  way;  for  a  certain  man 
named  Demetrius,  a  silversmith,  'whic.X  made  silver  shrines  for  Diana,  brought  no  small 
gain  unto  the  craftsmen." 

Shrines  were  little  images  of  the  temple  of  Diana,  together  with 
the  statue  of  the  goddess  Ai-temis,  ^  Diana,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  call 
her.  These  were  made  and  distribt»ted  among  the  worshippers.  Eveiy 
very  pious  man  had  one  in  his  house.  Of  com-se,  at  Ephesus  everybody 
was  pious.  This  temple,  which  was- between  foiu-  and  five  hundred  feet 
long,  and  some  two  or  three  hundred  fe^t  broad,  sm-rounded  by  a  col- 
onnade of  more  than  a  hundi'ed  and  thu-ty  or  a  hundred  and  forty  mag- 
nificent columns,  stored  with  treasures  of  tort,  and  very  rich  withal  in 
gold  and  silver,  was  much  resorted  to — so  mcich  so  that  the  city  itself 
reaped  a  great  harvest,  and  became  very  proud  of  then-  temple,  and  very 
proud  of  their  goddess.     And  so  piety  flom-ished  there. 

He  "called  together"  these  craftsmen,  "with  iie  workmen  of  like 
occupation  " — of  affiliated  trades — "  and  said,  Su-s,  >e  know  that  by  thia 
wafl  we  have  our  wealth.' ' 

Having  uttered  that  one  single  sentence,  and  hiv  the  nerv^e,  he  had 
nothing  more  to  say  on  that  subject.    He  did  not  need  to  say  any  more. 

Sunday  Evening,  July  25,  1869.— Lesson  :  Psa.  LXH.  Hymns  (Plymouth  CoUeotion): 
Ifos   907,  "Shining  Shore,"  1163. 


22  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

For  now  they  were  jirepai-ed  to  be  both  patriotic  and  pious !  Once 
striJce  men's  j^ocket  faMy,  and,  then  show  them  that  duty  to  then-  pocket 
reqxiu-es  that  they  should  be  pious,  and  there  will  be  no  end  to  their 
piety ;  or  that  they  should  be  patriotic,  and  they  will  be  furiously  patri- 
otic !  And  so  Demetrius,  who  was  a  discerner  of  human  natui'e,  was 
in  some  regards  very  much  to  be  respected.  He  was  a  Ehrewd  man  ; 
and  he  called  together  all  these  craftsmen  and  fellow  laborers,  and  said 
to  them  one  salient  thing — "  Sii's,  ye  know  that  by  this  craft  we  have 
our  wealth."     And  then  he  went  on : 

"  Moreover,  ye  see  and  hear  that  not  alone  at  Ephesus,  but  almost  throughout  all  Asia, 
this  Paul  hath  persuaded  and  turned  away  the  peojjle,  saying  that  they  be  no  Gods 
■which  are  made  with  hands.  So  that  not  only  this  our  craft  is  in  danger  to  be  set  at 
naught,  but  also  that  the  temple  of  the  great  goddess  Diana  should  bo  despised,  and  her 
magnificence  should  be  destroyed,  whom  all  Asia  and  the  world  worshippeth." 

Incidentally,  he  felt  it  a  pity  that  the  craft  should  suffer ;  but  he 
could  not  endure  that  the  temj)le  should  suffer. 

There  is  nothing  that  attaches  people  so  much  to  their  religion  as  to 
have  every  body  admiring  it.  A  chm'ch  that  every  body  talks  about 
seems,  to  those  that  belong  to  it,  to  be  a  most  admii-able  church.  And 
here  was  this  temple,  and  this  Diana,  that  all  the  world  admked.  The 
people  that  dwelt  in  the  town  where  the  world  came,  where  they  bought 
shrines  and  images  of  her,  and  where,  tarrying,  they  spent  then-  money — 
how  must  they  have  adored  their  most  profitable  goddess  ! 

"And  when  they  beard  these  sayings,  they  were  full  of  wrath" — for  piety  is  very  apt 
to  be  full  of  wrath;  it  very  easily  gets  angry—"  and  cried  out,  saying.  Great  is  Diana  of 
the  Ephesians !  And  the  whole  city  was  filled  with  confusion;  and  having  caught 
Gaii^s,  and  Aristarchus,  men  of  Macodonia,  Paul's  companions  in  travel,  they  rushed 
with  one  accord  into  the  theatre'"— the  great  public  forum;  "  and  when  Paul  would  have 
entered  in  unto  the  people,  the  disciples  suflered  him  not,  and  certain  of  the  chief  of 
Asia,  which  were  his  friends,  sent  unto  him  desiring  him  that  ho  would  not  adventure 
\i.imself  into  the  theatre." 

Paul  would  have  gone  in.  He  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  and  as  faith 
ful  to  his  friends  as  fidelity  itself 

"  Some,  therefore,  cried  one  thing,  and  some  another;  for  the  assembly  was  confused; 
and  the  more  part  knew  not  wherefore  they  were  come  together." 

It  is  an  exquisite  picture  of  a  mob — a  set,  probably,  of  several  thou- 
sand people,  all  confusedly  hustled  together  in  this  vast  forum,  bawling 
at  the  top  of  theu'  voice,  some  one  thing,  and  some  another ;  and  the 
greatest  part  of  them  not  knowing  what  they  were  there  for,  except  to 
help  make  the  noise.  And,  after  all,  this  is  the  way  in  which  trath  has 
been  attacked  mostly  in  this  world.  People  have  got  mad  at  it;  have 
bawled  at  it ;  and  have  had  mobs,  and  riots,  and  all  manner  of  physi- 
cal, forceful  proceedings  against  it.     But  of  that  hereafter. 

"  And  they  drew  Alexander  out  of  the  multitude,  the  Jews  putting 
him  fonvard."  Alexander  wnshed  to  explain  matters  to  them.  Pie 
*'  beckoned  with  the  hand,  and  would  have  made  his  defence."     Well, 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  23 

why  (lid  not  they  let  him — these  Greeks,  these  Ephesians ;  these  men 
that  had  such  a  splendid  temple,  and  such  a  profitable  goddess,  and  that 
had  come  together  to  have  a  consultation  as  to  what  they  should  do  ? 
They  had  caught  one  of  the  men,  and  he  wanted  to  make  his  statement 
to  them,  and  beckoned  to  them  to  hold  then*  peace,  and  be  quiet  while 
he  should  do  it.     What  was  the  objection  to  hearing  him  ? 

Now  comes  the  only  sensible  man  that  seems  to  have  belonged  to 
the  crowd: 

"  "When  the  town-elcrk  had  appeased  the  people,  he  said,  Ye  men  of  Ephesus,  -what 
man  is  there  that  knoweth  not  that  the  city  of  the  Ephesians  is  a-vrorshippcr  of  the  great 
goddess  Diana  and  of  the  imago  which  fell  down  from  Jupiter  ?  Seeing,  then,  that 
these  things  cannot  be  spoken  against,  re  ought  to  be  quiet  and  to  do  nothing  rashly. 
For  ye  have  brought  hither  these  men,  ■which  are  neither  robbers  of  churches  nor  yet 
blasphemers  of  your  goddess.  "Wherefore,  if  Demetrius  and  the  craftsmen  which  are 
with  him  have  a  matter  against  any  man,  the  law  is  o^en,  and  there  are  deputies;  let 
them  implead  one  another." 

If  he  had  said  this  at  the  beginning  of  the  turmoil,  he  might  as  well 
have  talked  to  the  wind.  You  never  can  do  anything  with  an  excited 
man,  or  an  excited  crowd,  taking  them  on  the  rising  tide  ;  but  if  you 
can  only  get  them  to  bawl  for  two  hoitrs,  until  they  are  tu-ed,  then  there 
is  some  chance  for  you.  The  town-clerk  knew  it.  And  you  see  how 
after  this  crowd  had  expended  theu"  energies  in  howling,  they  were  dis- 
posed to  listen. 

"  If  yo  enquire  anything  concerning  other  matters,  it  shall  be  determined  in  «,  lawful 
aesembly." 

And  then,  having  secured  their  good  sense,  he  toucnes  their  lear  a 
little  : 

"  For  we  are  in  danger  to  bo  called  in  question  for  this  day's  uproar,  there  being  no 
cauee  whereby  we  may  give  an  account  of  this  concourse." 

They  were,    you  know,  Roman  subjects,  and  the  government  was 
very  jealous,  particularly  of  great  crowds  of  people,  fearing  they  might 
have  some  political  design  masked  under  their  apparent  zeal.     They  had 
felt  the  sword  and  rod,  and  this  appeal  was  very  significant  to  them, 
"When  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  dismissed  the  assembly." 

So  the  foam  passed  off.  And,  yet  the  history  stands  here ;  and  it  is 
a  history  not  without  many  points  of  profound  interest  to  us. 

Paul  had  been  preaching  Christ  as  against  idols,  it  seems  by  the  tes- 
timony of  Demetrius.  If  Paul  had  preached  moral  truth  as  against 
heathenism,  in  any  such  general  and  philosophical  manner  that  it  did 
not  touch  men's  practical  afiau-s,  he  might  have  gone  on  preachmg  to 
this  day,  and  nobody  would  ever  have  thought  of  opposing  him. 

Men  have  talked  a  great  deal  about  the  toleration  of  Rome,  and  tfce 
Roman  government,  and  the  toleration  of  ancient  civilized  nations,  as 
compared  with  the  intolerance  of  Chiistian  nations  and  Christian  times. 
AVherever,  in  ancient  or  modern  times,  men  preach  tniths  adverse  to 
the  cuiTent  truths  in  such  a  way  that  they  are  kept^  like  the  clouds,  high 


24  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

above  men's  heads,  in  the  abstract  region,  they  can  preach  them  just  as 
long  as  they  please.  Paul  might  have  discussed  the  abstract  questiong 
of  religion,  of  the  structure  of  the  moral  government  of  God,  and  the 
various  questions  of  idols  and  idolators,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  no 
Demetrius  would  have  risen  up.  It  was  not  until  he  so  discussed  them 
that  the  abstract  became  concrete ;  it  was  not  until  the  truth  that  he 
preached  found  an  application  to  men — to  then-  occupations,  to  their 
morals,  to  their  interests,  and  so  to  their  prejudices — that  his  preaching 
became  o:^ensive. 

This  rec'Snciles  the  statement  that  men  love  truth,  and  are  willing  to 
hear  the  truth,  with  the  other  statement,  that  men  resist  light,  and  will 
not  have  it.  It  is  true  that  men  do  love  truth,  abstractly  considered. 
There  is  a  pleasure  in  seeing  that  a  thing  is  true  in  a  different  way,  or  in 
a  hio-her  way,  than  a  man  is  accustomed  to  see  it.  And  on  one  side 
men  do  like  the  truth.  But  still,  that  feeling  is  not  so  strong  in  them 
as  their  interests  are.  When  the  truth  fitted  itself  into  then-  apprehen- 
sion, they  liked  it ;  but  when  it  is  carried  forward  with  such  applica- 
tions and  such  various  inflictions  that  their  lower  nature  rises  up  against 
their  higher  nature,  and  preponderates,  then  men  become  haters  of  the 
truth. 

Again,  all  gi-eat  truths  do  reach  down,  finally,  to  men's  private  and 
business  life.  There  is  no  gi-eat  moral  truth  which  does  not  ramify  and 
radicate  itself,  so  that  if  it  be  faithfully  preached,  fii'st  or  last  it  Avill 
find  its  way  down  to  men's  thoughts,  and  feelings,  and  conductf  and 
business,  and  politics,  and  every  thing  else.  I  will  defy  any  man  to 
preach  anygi-eat  salient  moral  truth  thoroughly,  and  not  touch  the  artist's 
business.  No  man  can  preach  any  great  salient  moral  truth  thoroughly, 
and  not  find  himself  meddluag  with  questions  which  concern  com-ts, 
merchants,  statesmen,  politicians.  For  all  truth,  earned  out,  runs  into 
the  practical. 

When,  therefore,  it  is  said,  These  churches  and  ministers  have  no 
right  to  meddle  with  political  questions,  it  is  saying  substantially  this : 
that  ministers  may  preach  tmths  as  long  as  they  preach  them  so  that 
they  do  not  hit  anywhere  ;  as  long  as  they  preach  them  abstractly ;  but 
that  when  they  have  earned  them  out  in  such  a  way  that  they  take  hold 
of  men's  interests,  and  so  begin  to  be  practical,  then  they  must  stop, 
because  they  have  no  right  to  preach  politics ! 

In  no  other  land  as  much  as  in  this  does  preaching  so  soon  become 
political ;  for,  as  we  profess  to  be  Christians,  we  have  a  right  to  bring 
all  public  questions  to  the  arbitrament  of  revealed  truth.  And,  first  or 
last,  at  one  tirie  or  another,  almost  eveiy  question  that  belongs  to  reli- 
^on,  becomes  a  political  question.  It  would  not  have  given  the  slight- 
est offence,  in  years  ^one  by  foY  a  man  to  have  preached  monogamy— 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  25 

that  a  man  ought  to  have  but  one  wife ;  that  men  ouglit  to  maintain 
the  New  Testament  doctrine  on  this  subject.  A  man  miglit  liave  thun- 
dered against  polygamy,  without  exciting  any  opposition.  But  the 
time  is  coming,  very  likely,  in  Avhich  there  will  be  two  parties  bidding 
for  votes.  Utah  will  be  between  them ;  and  one  party  will  wink  at 
polygamy,  while  the  other  party  will  be  strong  for  monogamy.  And 
then  according  to  this  doctrine,  no  man  will  liave  a  right  to  j^reach  on 
tliat  subject,  because  he  Jias  no  right  to  preach  politics. 

There  is  no  question,  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  society,  that 
may  not  become,  by  the  eddyings  and  shiftings  of  public  atiliirs,  a 
political  question.  And  it  is  held  that  men  must  not  preach  upon  it. 
And  if  they  do,  soEbe  Demetrius,  ordained  or  unordaincd,  will  rise  up 
and  say,  "  These  men  are  unsettling  the  community,  and  also  disturb- 
ing otu*  interest,  or  om*  polity,  as  the  case  may  be. 

Paul  had  no  conception  of  what  he  was  doing.  He  was  preaching 
Christ  feai'lessly,  freely,  to  the  undei-standing,  to  the  conscience,  to 
every  one  of  the  feelings  of  the  human  heart.  He  had  no  idea  that 
there  was  such  a  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth  as  Demetrius.  He  did 
not  dream  that  he  was  hurting  anybody.  And  yet,  you  see  w^hat  were 
the  ramifications  of  moral  truth,  and  how,  as  the  result  of  Paul's  preach- 
ing, there  uprose  this  Demetrius,  and  his  craftsmen,  and  all  the  neigh- 
borhood. It  bore  testimony  against  them.  Though  Paitl  did  not 
know  it,  every  one  of  them  had  been  hit  by  him.  So  subtle,  so  far  be- 
yond what  he  realized,  was  the  outreach  and  power  of  the  Gospel,  that 
when  Paul  was  preaching  Christ  with  one  thought  and  one  purpose, 
he  Ibund  that  he  was  doing  vastly  more  than  he  intended,  reaching 
down  to  men  that  he  never  knew  existed,  and  to  occupations  that  he 
never  had  in  his  mind.  And  so  long  as  the  world  stands,  foithful 
preaching  will  not  only  do  what  the  preacher  aims  to  do,  but  a  great 
deal  more.  It  will  do  unconscious  things.  It  will  reach  men  that  he 
never  thought  of,  and  interests  that  he  never  contemplated. 

Truth  may  be  handled  with  unnecessaiy  offence ;  it  may  be  i-udely 
handled ;  it  may  be  preached  with  interaperateness  and  disproportion  ; 
it  may  be  preached  without  a  wise  regard  to  times  and  seasons.  There 
is  sucli  a  thing  as  skill  and  wisdom  in  keeping  the  passions  of  men 
down,  while  you  appeal  to  then-  reason  and  their  higher  feelings.  There 
is  such  a  way  of  preaching  that  under  favorable  circumstances  we  can 
sometimes  persuade  men  to  hear  the  trath  against  then*  interests.  But, 
on  the  whole,  in  dealing  with  communities  of  men,  there  is  no  way  in 
which  you  can  so  preach  the  trath  that  it  will  destroy  men's  interests, 
and  have  them  remain  peaceable,  and  like  it. 

In  the  development  of  Gospel  truth,  society  is  obliged  continually 
to  change  its  interests.      It  is  indispensable  to  growth,  that  the  lower 


56  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

forms  of  life  Bhould  change  to  higher  ones,  and  some  occupations, 
therefore,  should  be  modified.  Things  that  are  entirely  reiDutable  in 
one  age,  become  entu-ely  disreputable  in  another.  Things  that  our 
fathers  hardly  thoixght  of  would  now  cast  a  man  out  of  society.  This 
belongs  to  the  necessity  of  development  and  gi-owth. 

When  you  are  preaching,  not  for  any  special  work  in  any  single 
man's  soul,  but  so  as  to  renovate  the  community,  make  sure  of  this, 
that  you  never  can  j^reach  so  as  to  be  felt  and  have  j)ower  in  the  commu- 
nity, without  raising  against  you  all  those  whose  interests  must  sufl'er. 

That  was  what  om-  Master  meant  when  he  said,  "I  came  not  to 
send  peace,  but  a  sword."  He  knew  (for  he  needed  not  that  any  man 
should  testify  to  what  was  in  man)  that  the  strong  man  of  the  heart 
would  not  be  bound  or  cast  out  of  his  own  castle  unless  there  was 
strength  superior  to  his  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  He  knew  that  men 
who  lived  by  pampering  superstitions,  and  lusts,  and  evil  passions, 
would  not  consent  to  be  purified  without  a  struggle.  StiCan,  either  in 
man  or  in  society,  is  neither  to  be  bound  or  cast  out,  except  there  be 
a  mighty  power  over  against  him. 

You  will  therefore  be  prejDared  to  say  that  this  Demetrius  was  a 
very  bad  man.  That  is  the  general  opinion.  I  do  not  think  myself 
that  he  was  a  saint :  but  was  he  exceptionally  bad  ?  I  do  not  know 
that  he  was  worse  than  any  ordinary  man  here.  I  doubt  if  there  are 
not  five  hundi-ed  Demetriuses  in  this  congregation — that  is  to  say,  men 
who,  under  the  same  cii'cumstances,  would  do  just  exactly  what  De- 
metrius did.  We  look  upon  him  with  all  the  light  and  refinement  of 
our  modern  consciences  ;  but  that  is  not  a  fan*  judgment.  We  must 
go  back  and  look  at  the  way  in  which  he  was  educated,  and  consider 
the  plane  on  which  he  stood,  and  see  how  things  looked  to  him,  and 
then  form  our  judgment  of  him.  We  must  remember,  in  the  fii'st  place, 
that  he  knew  no  religion  but  heathenism,  and  that  he  supposed  that  to 
be  the  best  religion  there  was  in  the  world.  We  must  remember,  too, 
that  he  occupied  the  same  relation  to  his  religion  that  the  Tract  Society 
does  to  the  Christian  religion.  The  Tract  Society  makes  shrines — little 
books,  little  instructive  treatises,  representing  their  notions  of  religion. 
W^hat  was  Demetrius  doing  ?  He  made  no  books ;  but  he  was  making 
little  images  of  the  temple,  and  little  statues  of  Diana.  And  they  were 
gent  into  everybody's  house,  in  order  that  men  mighi  have  then-  religion 
right  by  them.  It  is  a  convenient  thing  to  have  a  pocket  god ;  and 
he  was  helping  people  to  have  little  portable  deities  of  then*  own.  And 
according  to  the  doctrine  of  symbolism,  I  do  not  know  why  they  had 
not  a  right  to  emjjloy  those  things.  Symbolic  teachings,  statues,  gar- 
ments, were  employed  by  the  most  intelligent  of  the  old  heathen,  to 
help  theu'  imagination.     They  did  not  worship  the  stone,  the  gold,  noi 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  27 

the  silver.  They  said,  "These  are  mere  remembrancers.  We  look  at 
them,  and  see  God."  And  our  prayers  serve  very  much  the  same  pur- 
pose. They  quicken  our  imagination,  and  help  us  to  appA)ach  the  real 
God. 

Demetrius,  a  shrewd  man,  without  doubt,  probably  said  to  himself, 
"It  is  better  for  the  peoj^-le  to  stick  to  their  religion.  And  what  if 
making  their  shrines  is  profitable  to  me,  I  am  working  at  a  religious 
business ;  I  am  working  for  the  good  of  men's  conciences,  and  for  the 
furtherance  of  the  fiiith.  I  am  doing  just  the  thing  that  a  devout  man 
ought  to  do.  And  as  our  religion  is  associated  with  our  country,  I  am 
making  men  not  only  religious,  but  patriotic.  And  this  wanderer,  this 
vagabond  Jew,  himself,  when  he  has  discovered  what  we  are  so  proud 
of,  will  believe  in  Ephesianism."  He  felt  that  he  was  doing 
right  in  fostering  the  sphit  that  prevailed  among  them.  He 
felt  that  hei'e  was  a  man  preaching  against  the  settled  religion 
of  the  people,  and  against  the  settled  policy  of  the  state,  and 
offending  the  prejudices  of  the  best  portion  of  the  community.  He 
felt  that  here  was  a  man  destropng  all  the  educated  notions  of  the  com- 
mon people,  and  prej^aring  them  to  break  loose  from  their  ideas  of 
religion,  and  embrace  blank  infidelity.  Here  was  a  man  that  was  a 
Jew,  that  was  not  born  in  Asia  anyhow,  that  was  born  away  ofi"  in 
Palestme,  and  was  setting  forth  a  strange  God ;  and  Demetrius  felt 
everything  in  him  rise  up  with  indignation.  And  it  is  not  difficult  to 
say  that  though  that  was  not  the  wisest  and  best  course,  it  was  not  a 
very  flagitious  one,  judging  from  ordinary  specimens. 

And  consider  that  doubtless  he  had,  in  a  certain  sort,  a  sincere  be- 
lief in  Diana,  his  tutelary  divinity ;  and  that  he  could  say,  with  some 
truth,  "My  conscience  pledges  me  to  do  this."  We  know,  from  the 
narration,  and  the  way  it  is  given,  that  the  mainspring  of  his  conduct 
was  interest.  He  said  so,  distinctly,  to  the  craftsmen.  "Ye  know  that 
by  this  craft  we  have  om-  wealth."  Being  a  sagacious  merchant,  he 
probably  looked  over  his  accounts,  and  said,  "I  have  not  made  as  many 
shrmes  as  usual.  The  demand  for  them  is  becoming  less  and  less,  be- 
cause this  Paul  has  been  going  about  unsettling  the  faiths  of  men.  If 
this  goes  on,  I  cannot  teU  what  will  become  of  my  business."  He 
looked  at  the  matter  as  a  sagacious  manufacturer.  And  selfishness 
was  stirred  up  in  him,  unquestionably.  But  I  think  he  had  a  feeling 
of  devoutness,  according  to  his  knowledge  and  condition.  • 

And  that  brings  up  the  question  of  mixed  motives.  Was  it  wi'ong 
for  Demetrius  to  gain  all  this  advantage  through  a  selfish  consideration  ? 
Ko.  Was  it  wrong  for  him  to  mingle  with  his  j^iety,  such  as  it  was, 
and  with  his  patriotism,  such  as  it  was,  personal  regard?  No,  it  was  not 
wi-ong.  If  you  were  to  take  away  from  men  all  that  religion  which  coraea 


28  TAUL  AND  DEMETBIUS. 

from  theii"  personal  interest  in  it;  if  you  were  to  lake  away  from  them 
that  love  of  country,  that  desii'e  for  good  government,  that  patriotism, 
which  springs  from,  or  is  based  upon,  selfish  considerations,  I  am  afi'aid 
there  would  be  very  little  operative  patriotism  in  the  community.  If 
you  were  to  take  away  from  men  then-  attachment  to  then-  country  as 
the  place  where  they  live,  and  where  then*  childi'en  live,  you  would  re- 
move the  greater  part  of  that  patriotism  which  animates  the  masses  of 
the  community.      And  yet,  they  may  have  some  pm-e  patriotic  feeling. 

In  that  great  up-heaving  and  pmifying  convulsion,  om*  late  civil 
war,  at  fii-st  men's  more  generous  sentiments  flamed  up.  They  were 
ready  to  give  almost  everything  for  then*  country,  without  a  thought 
of  their  own  interest.  They  acted  enthusiastically  and  heroically.  But 
after  a  few  months  had  passed  by,  how  many  were  willing  to  come 
forward  and  give  then-  money  to  the  government  ?  And  what  was  the 
argument  for  taking  the  bonds,  but  this :  "  If  the  Government  is  not 
worth  anything,  what  is  any  bank  or  any  institution  going  to  be  worth 
in  this  country  ?  Om-  interest,  therefore,  requu-es  that  we  should  main- 
tain the  Government."  And  how  soon  the  idea  of  men's  going  into 
the  army  without  money  and  without  price  died  out!  How  soon 
pecuniary  considerations  came  ia ! 

But  do  you  suppose  that  because  a  man  took  a  large  bounty,  and 
received  regular  pay,  in  the  ai'my,  he  had  no  patriotism?  He  had 
some  patriotism.  But  he  acted  from  mixed  motives.  A  man  may  act 
from  strong  selfish  motives,  fi'om  strong  avaiicious  motives,  and  yet 
there  may  be  mingled  with  these  higher  motives.  And  it  is  just  this 
that  deceives  men.  Because  they  see  that  then-  self-interest  runs  in 
the  du-ection  of  religion  or  patriotism,  they  gUd  it  over,  and  say,  "All 
the  force  which  is  inspired  by  the  lower  basilar  feelings  takes  on  the 
form  of  religious  feelings ;"  and  they  give  credit  for  all  that  force  to  the 
religious  feelings.  Men  think,  for  instance,  that  then-  zeal  in  religion 
is  purely  a  matter  of  conscience,  not  stopping  to  consider  how  much 
that  zeal  depends  on  then*  standing  in  the  church,  on  theu'  social  posi- 
tion, on  the  influences  that  surround  them,  and  how  far  it  is  their 
interest  to  be  zealous  concerning  particular  truths  of  religion. 

This  question,  then,  comes  up,  where  there  are  mixed  motives: 
Does  the  presence  of  the  lower  vitiate  or  desu-oy  the  liigher  ?  No.  It 
adulterates  it,  but  it  does  not  destroy  it.  Where  a  man  acts  for  a  right 
thing  from  a  pure  motive ;  where  a  man  sees  the  truth,  and  follows  it 
conscientiously,  from  love  to  God,  from  love  to  man,  and  from  love  to 
the  truth  itself,  that  is  the  highest  form  of  conduct.  But  if  afterwardg 
there  is  the  consciousness  in  his  bosom  that  while  he  acts  from  these 
higher  motives  interest  comes  in,  this  lower  motive  does  not  vitiate  the 
others.     It  is  his  duty  to  see  that  the  lower  motive  is  kept  in  its  proper 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  29 

place,  but  the  higher  motives  are  not  destroyed  by  the  existence  of  the 
lower  one. 

Sometimes  M'hen  persons  examine  themselves,  they  say,  "  I  fear  I 
am  not  truly  a  Christian,  because  I  find  that  I  am  acting  from  such  and 
such  lower  motives,  as  well  as  from  higher  ones."  Well,  there  ai-e 
very  few  people  who  act  from  less  than  five  or  six  different  motives. 
Almost  all  our  actions  spring  from  complex  motives.  Our  faculties 
are  complex,  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  om-  motives  will  be 
complex.  But  when  the  motives  ai'e  in  the  main  of  the  highest  order, 
if  a  lower  motive  comes  in,  though  you  may  not  be  on  the  highest 
plane,  yet  you  may  be  within  the  bounds  of  righteousness.  When, 
however,  the  lower  motive  is  the  strongest,  and  religion  is  merely  an 
embellishment  of  that ;  when  the  animating  motive — that  which  gives 
life  and  power — is  self-interest,  and  conscience  is  used  as  a  varnish  or 
cloak,  then  it  becomes  detestable,  pernicious.  It  is  what  we  call 
"hypocrisy."  It  is  acting  from  one  motive  under  the  pretense  that 
the  action  proceeds  from  another  motive.  A  man  is  not  necessarily  a 
hypocrite  who  acts  from  different  classes  of  motives ;  but  he  wlo  acts 
from  a  lower  class  of  motives  under  the  pretense  that  he  is  acting  from 
a  higher  class,  is  hy[)ocritical. 

ISTow,  I  will  not  deny  that  Demetrius  had  some  patriotism,  and 
some  sentiment  of  devotion.  I  think  it  veiy  likely  that  he  had.  Buti 
it  is  very  evident  that  his  feehng  of  self-interest  was  stronger  than 
either  of  these.  He  was  not  a  good  man;  and  yet  he  was  not  an 
extremely  bad  man.  He  was  just  like  men  that  you  see  every  day. 
There  are  many  men  who  do  business  with  no  better  motives  than 
those  which  actuated  him.  A  man  does  a  kindness ;  and  you  find, 
when  you  get  at  his  motive,  that  it  was  a  selfish  one.  "  Why  did 
you  do  that  kindness  T  you  may  say  to  him.  "  To  tell  you  the 
truth,"  he  says,  "I  want  accommodation;  and  this  man  is  cousin 
to  one  of  the  principal  directors  of  that  corporation,  and  I  knew 
it  would  help  him;  and  I  knew  that  when  I  asked  for  accom- 
modation  it  would  be  in  his  power  to  help  me.  You  never  lose  any- 
thing by  being  kind.  I  tell  my  friends  that  they  ought  to  be  kind.' 
That  is  not  thought  to  be  very  bad;  and  it  is  just  precisely  the 
same  that  Demetrius  did,  acting  from  one  motive  in  connection  with 
other  stronger  ones,  and  keeping  the  best  looking  one  ahead  for  show, 
and  the  other  ones  out  of  sight  for  work !  And  so  we  find  it  all  through 
society,  and  all  through  life.  There  is  nothing  more  common  than  for 
men  to  hang  one  motive  outside  where  it  can  be  seen,  and  keep  the 
others  in  the  backgi'ound  to  turn  the  machinery. 

From  this  naiTative  we  may  derive  the  princii^le  or  statement  that 
moral  truth  is  of  transcendently  more  value  in  every  community  than 


30  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

all  the  material  interests  of  society.  It  is  of  more  value  than  the  order 
and  i^eace  of  society  itself.  There  is  an  impression  that  the  Gospel  is 
buch  a  soothing  syrup,  such  a  tranquilizing  system,  that  if  a  jjreacher 
knows  his  business,  men  going  to  hear  him  will  be  made  very  peaceable 
and  happy,  and  will  go  away  feeling  very  good.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  man  disturbs  the  community,  and  Avhen  he  preaches  men  are  violently 
excited,  and  there  are  disjiutations,  and  parties  are  formed,  it  is  thought 
that  these  results  are  prima  facie  evidence  that  he  is  not  a  true 
i:)reacher  of  the  Gospel.  And  it  has  passed  into  a  byword — we  see  it 
in  all  the  fifth-rate  newspapers,  and  hear  it  from  the  lips  of  pot-house 
politicians  (those  men  whose  wisdom  rises  no  higher  than  the  pas- 
sions)— that  ministers  ought  to  be  "  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus,"  and  that  they  "  go  beyond  then  sphere  "  when  they  preach  so 
as  to  disturb  anybody. 

But  did  you  notice  what  I  read  in  the  opening  service  from  our 
Savior's  lips  ? 

"  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on  earth ;  I  come  not  to 
send  peace,  but  a  sword.  For  I  am  come  to  set  a  man  at  variance 
against  his  father,  and  the  daughter  against  her  mother,  and  the  daugh- 
ter-in-law against  her  mother-in-law.  And  a  man's  foes  shall  be  they 
of  his  own  household."  I  have  come  to  teach  men  the  truth,  and  to 
form  a  conscience  for  the  truth.  I  have  come  to  make  men  feel  that 
it  is  more  important  that  they  should  follow  the  convictions  of  moral 
sense,  than  that  they  should  follow  then  interests  or  then  friendships. 
Every  man  must  stand  up  in  his  place  and  say,  "  This  is  the  truth,  and 
I  will  abide  by  it."  And  then  men  will  be  disturbed  by  his  example. 
Therefore  he  must  be  their  foe.  Then  there  wUl  be  division  and 
quaiTcling.     And  yet,  he  must  stand  firm  to  the  truth. 

If  you  go  home,  saying,  "  I  must  follow  the  Lord,"  and  everybody 
in  the  household  says,  "We  are  following  Mammon;"  oi-,  "We  are 
following  the  Goddess  of  Pleasure,"  it  is  for  you  to  stand  by  your 
higher  light.  And  you  will  give  oHence.  You  will  be  an  element  of 
discord.  Nevertheless,  you  must  be  firm,  though  yoiir  doing  so  leads 
to  disruption.  If  the  father  and  mother  will  worship  Baal,  and  the 
child  would  worship  Jehovah,  the  child  must  not  yield.  And  Lf  there 
be  quaiTeling,  it  is  not  the  child's  fault. 

If  men  in  a  community  see  that  good  morals  are  being  dissolved, 
and  that  the  tone  of  conscience  is  being  lowered,  and  they  preach  a 
truth  that  is  calculated  to  raise  the  tone  of  conscience,  and  make  it 
more  imperious  than  it  was,  so  that  it  shall  rebuke  those  who  are 
supplying  food  for  men's  passions  and  lusts,  and  so  that  it  shall  come 
in  conflict  with  ignorance  and  superstition,  I  take  the  side  of  the  dis- 
turber.    I  am  bound  to  preach  the  truth  so  that  every  man  shall  see 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  31 

the  right  better,  and  so  that  the  whole  of  society  shall  live  on  a  higher 
plane.  I  am  bound  to  preach  so  as  to  bring  about  the  reorganization 
of  society — peaceably  if  I  can ;  but  if  men  will  not  let  it  be  done  peace- 
ably, it  is  their  lookout,  and  not  mine.  I  am  bound  to  preach  so  as  to 
inspu'e  men  with  the  conception  that  they  who  live  for  the  present 
only,  live  as  animals  live.  I  am  bound  to  preach  so  that  men  shall 
avoid  grog-shops  and  pawnbrokers'  offices.  But  the  gi-og-sbop  keeper 
and  the  pawnbroker  do  not  like  it;  and  they  say,  "My  business  will  be 
ruined  if  this  preaching  is  not  stopped." 

That  which  you  recognize  as  being  true  in  its  lower  applications,  is 
just  as  true  in  its  higher  applications.  And  that  which  om-  Master  did, 
and  which  the  old  apostles  did,  has  been  done  by  every  one  that  is 
worthy  to  be  called  an  apostle  since  the  days  of  Christ. 

There  has  been  a  great  dispute  as  to  whether  there  are  any  legiti- 
mate descendants  of  the  apostles.  I  think  there  are.  They  are  sup- 
posed to  come  by  the  imposition  of  hands.  I  believe  they  come  by  the 
imposition  of  hands.  It  is  supposed  that  the  hand  is  placed  on  the 
head  of  the  candidate.  No,  it  is  j^laced  a  little  lower  down — upon  the 
heart.  And  it  is  the  hand  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  That  is  a  lineal 
descendant  of  the  apostles  who  has  a  clearer  and  higher  understanding 
of  the  truth  than  those  about  him,  and  who  so  preaches  it  that  it  dis- 
tiu'bs  the  consciences,  the  peace  and  the  settled  order,  of  those  about 
him,  and  disturbs  them  just  so  far  as  is  necessary  to  the  work  of  refor- 
mation. If  men  say  that  in  Rome  there  are  descendants  of  Peter  or 
Paul,  let  them  show  that  they  are  pm-er  and  more  disinterested  than  other 
men ;  that  they  go  out  to  reform  the  world  just  as  those  apostles  did ; 
that  they  break  up  wi'ong;  that  they  build  up  right;  that  they  bring  light 
where  there  is  darkness.  If  they  prove  thek  apostolicity  in  this  man- 
ner, I  shall  not  have  a  word  to  say.  I  think  him  to  be  a  descendant 
of  the  apostles  who  preaches  as  the  apostles  did,  and  as  the  Master  did, 
that  which  benefits  men's  souls.  I  have  no  objection  to  bishops.  I 
should  like  to  see  a  hundi'ed  more  than  there  are.  I  do  not  envy  them 
then-  robes,  nor  thek  dioceses,  nor  then-  honors.  But  if  they  say  that 
they  are  apostolic  in  any  other  sense  than  that  in  which  any  other  good 
man  is  apostolic,  I  should  like  to  see  what  they  do.  If  they  are  imi- 
tating the  example  of  the  apostles  in  the  community,  and  do  not  care 
for  honor  nor  for  case ;  if  they  are  probing  wickedness  in  the  commu- 
nity ;  if  they  are  making  sacrifices  for  the  cause  of  God ;  if  they  are 
revolutionizers  by  the  power  of  Christ's  truth,  then  I  say.  Yes,  they  are 
not  only  bishops,  but  apostolic  bishops.  They  are  called  of  God  by 
the  unction  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  evidence  of  it  is,  that  they  are 
doing  the  work  of  the  apostles.  He  that  does  the  apostles'  work  is  of 
the  apostles.     He  is  of  the  same  lineage,  if  you  please  to  call  it  sa 


32  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

That  is  the  only  apostoUc  descent  that  I  believe  in,  and  the  only  one 
that  I  think  will  be  believed  in  long.  He  that  holds  the  same  Gospel 
as  the  apostles  did,  and  preaches  it  in  the  same  way  and  in  the  same 
spirit,  is  an  apostolic  preacher,  ordained  or  unordained. 

This  work  is  going  on  in  our  time.  Do  not  think,  because  it  has 
gone  on  thi'ough  one  phase  triumphantly,  that  the  end  has  come.  Do 
not  suppose,  because  we  have  fought  a  gi'eat  battle  for  liberty,  that  the 
conflict  is  over.  Do  not  think  that  the  time  for  agitation  is  passed, 
and  that  now  we  are  going  to  have  a  blessed  peace.  You  are  not  perfect 
yet.  Society  is  not  perfect.  And  industry  is  far  from  being  perfect. 
It  is  badly,  corruptly,  unjustly  organized.  Social  life  is  not  pui*e. 
There  are  ten  thousand  qiiestions  which  are  so  crooked  that  they  be- 
long to  the  prophecy  that  crooked  places  inust  be  made  straight. 
There  are  places  that  are  depressed,  and  must  be  exalted.  There  are 
great  wrongs  that  tower  up  like  mountains,  which  must  come  down. 
The  preaching  of  the  Gospel  is  to  be  doctrinal ;  but  all  doctrinal  preach- 
ing is  to  come  down  and  touch  our  life. 

This  nation  will  be  agitated  on  a  great  many  questions.  All  na- 
tions are  being  agitated  on  these  same  questions.  The  truth  of  God 
has  not  done  its  full  work  anywhere.  The  power  of  God  in  Jesus 
Chiist,  the  power  of  the  divine  principle  of  love,  to  make  the  individual 
character  beaiitiful,  is  not  expended.  We  are  to  live  on  a  higher  plane. 
"VVe  are  to  -think  more  nobly  and  truly.  We  are  to  feel  more  divinely 
and  heroically.  We  are  to  live  lives  that  shall  approximate  more 
nearh^  to  the  divine  model. 

And  as  it  is  with  the  individual,  so  is  it  with  society.  There  are  to 
be  expansions  of  social  intercourse.  There  are  to  be  pm'ifications  and 
refinements.  They  are  to  cross  men's  interests,  and  upset  men's  opin- 
ions. Civil  society,  in  its  own  structure,  is  to  undergo  a  revolution. 
But  it  is  not  to  be  so  always.  "  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,"  and  it  is  one 
day  to  be  redeemed.  That  day  is  coming  Httle  by  little  in  Europe. 
Little  by  little  it  is  coming  in  Asia.  It  is  yet  to  come  in  every  country 
on  the  globe.  The  world  is  to  be  disenthralled  and  purified.  The 
whole  globe  is  to  be,  in  its  totality,  higher  than  the  most  favored  Ckris- 
tian  community,  or  the  most  favored  Clu'istian  family,  or  the  most  em- 
inent Christian  individual.  And  before  that  time  comes,  the  truth 
must  have  free  course  to  run  and  be  glorified.  It  must  be  preached 
iu  fidelity  and  power. 

My  young  friends,  who  are  beginning  life,  beware  of  taking  sides 
with  current  opinions.  Opinions  are  not  true  simply  because  they  are 
held  to  be  true  in  your  day.  Whatever  thing  comes  to  you  with  the 
light  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  inspiring  meditation  and  research ;  whatever 
thing  inspu-es  you  with  a  nobler  life,  and  to  a  higher  activity  in  that 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  33 

life — ^that  take.  Range  yourselves  on  the  side  of  coming  truth.  Range 
yourselves  on  the  side  of  clearer  manifestations  of  God.  Do  not  run 
after  every  novelty.  Do  not  go  hither  and  thither  for  change.  But 
wherever  you  are  continually  di-awn,  your  conscience  and  reason  bear- 
ing witness  that  you  are  drawn  in  a  dii'ection  in  which  you  are  less 
animal  and  selfish  and  proud,  and  in  which  you  are  nobler,  truer,  simpler, 
and  sweeter-minded,  there  go.  Follow  that  call ;  for  it  is  a  divine  calL 
Satan  will  never  tempt  you  to  go  toward  God.  By  no  blandishment 
"wall  he  make  you  humbler  and  better.  Whatever  may  have  been  your 
teaching  or  yom-  theorizing,  be  true  to  the  inspirations  of  the  divine 
mind. 

God  is  yet  working  in  the  world,  and  he  is  to  bring  to  pass  a  gloiy 
of  which  at  present  we  have  but  the  feeblest  conception.  Be  not  afraid 
of  agitations.  Be  not  afraid  of  excitements.  Only  see  that  they  are 
agitations  and  excitements,  not  of  the  lower  passions,  but  of  the  moral 
sentiments.  Be  not  afraid  that  you  will  not  be  orthodox.  Be  God's, 
and  then  you  will  be  orthodox.  Whatever  the  churches  may  say, 
"  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  knoAvledge  of  the  Lord  and  Saviom-  Jesus 
Christ."  Then,  whether  you  measm-e  more  or  less  than  the  creeds  call 
for,  you  will  be  sm*e  to  be  on  the  right  ground. 

I  call  you  to  a  larger  Christian  life  ;  to  a  nobler  Chi-istian  faith ;  and 
to  one  that  shall  augment  to  the  end  of  your  lives.  I  do  not  ask  you 
to  become  a  member  of  this  sect,  and  wear  our  epaulets  and  om-  but- 
tons and  our  stripes,  and  to  go  about  boasting  of  our  superiority  over 
other  sects.  You  are  Christ's,  I  am  Chiist's,  we  are  all  Christ's,  loved 
of  Chiistians  of  every  name,  and  loved  of  chm'ches  however  imperfect ; 
and  if  yom*  lot  be  cast  with  others,  work  with  them,  and  help  them. 
Hinder  none.  Revile  none.  QuaiTcl  with  none.  Take  sides  with  the 
highest  truth,  with  the  highest  morality,  and  with  the  most  eai'nest 
justice  and  benevolence  and  purity.  Take  sides  with  God,  and  God 
will  take  care  of  you.  And  rising,  at  last,  from  this  dismal  morass, 
which  we  call  life,  you  shall  be  admitted  where  there  shall  be  no  more 
discord,  into  the  blessedness  of  the  heavenly  land.  For  those  who  ai'e 
in  the  minority  for  Christ's  sake  on  earth,  shall,  by  the  power  of  Christ, 
be  in  everlasting  majoiity  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


34  PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

Thou,  0  God,  art  ia  heaven;  and  yet  everywhere  thou  art  present.  Thou  dwelleat 
in  the  land  of  spirits,  and  wo  are  incased  in  the  body;  and  yet,  thou  dost  vouchsafe  thy 
help  and  thy  care — the  more  because  we  are  needy;  for  thou  art  gracious,  slow  to  anger 
and  plentiful  in  mercy.  Thou  rejoicest  in  good,  and  not  in  evil.  Thou  hast  sanctitied 
pain;  and  to  those  that  are  instructed  thou  hast  redeemed  suffering  from  being  an  ill. 
Thou  dost  giant  unto  us  thy  Son,  our  Savior,  who  was  made  a  perfect  Captain  of  our  salva- 
tion by  the  things  which  he  suffered.  Thou  hast  called  us  to  suffering,  if  we  would  follow 
him;  and  thou  hast  sanctified  it,  so  that  it  no  longer  is  poisonous,  no  longer  quenches 
joy,  but  is  only  the  darkness  preceding  the  light,  and  the  medicine  that  brings  health. 
We  thank  thee  that  by  pain  and  suffering  the  heart  is  deepened.  We  thank  thee  that 
thou  dosi  jpen  its  chambers,  and  fill  them  full  of  power  and  life.  We  thank  thee  that 
the  way  of  suffering  is  the  way  of  victory  and  exaltation  and  joys  supreme,  which  by  and 
by  none  shall  take,  and  no  suffering  shall  quench.  We  pray,  therefore,  that  we  may  be 
willing  to  follow  thee  in  the  way  of  trouble,  that  we  may  bear  our  burdens  cheerfully; 
that  we  may  accept  such  cares  as  are  brought  upon  us  as  the  will  of  the  Lord,  and  count 
ourselves  thy  pupils  in  the  school  where  thou  art  disciplining  us,  and  teaching  us  to  be 
stronger,  more  manly,  purer,  more  true,  and  more  victorious  in  our  conflicts.  We  pray 
that  we  may  feel  tnat  we  are  evermore  under  thy  watchful  carj,  and  that  thou  art  giving 
nothing  too  much,  and  taking  aw^y  nothing  too  much;  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  thee.  Give  us  this  solvent  of  all  human  trouble — thy  love.  May 
we  have  such  steadfastness  of  adhesion  to  thee,  may  we  so  make  ourselves  thy  followers, 
and  thee  our  chief  to  whom  we  owe  fealty  and  obedience,  that  every  thing  in  life  shall 
take  its  color  from  thee.  And  may  we  live  as  Christ's  men.  Living  or  dying,  may  we 
be  the  Lord's.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  unto  us,  being  exercised 
therein,  wisdom  to  discern  what  is  good,  and  what  is  right;  what  things  are  just,  and 
what  things  are  true.  And  in  the  perplexities  of  our  conscience,  in  all  our  doubts  and 
diffidence,  grant,  we  pray  thee,  thine  own  Spirit,  that  ours  may  be  quickened,  and  lifted 
CO  high  that  they  shall  look  down  upon  these  earthly  questions,  and  solve  them  easily, 
out  of  a  pure  heart;  out  of  a  heart  made  lucid  by  communion  with  the  Spirit  of  God. 
May  we  be  able  to  sit  in  judgment  on  all  human  things.  And  grant,  we  beseech  of  thee, 
that  we  may  have  power  to  make  the  truth  known  to  others — sweetly  and  blessedly  to 
those  that  accept  it,  and,  if  it  must  neeas  De,  with  threat,  yea  and  with  a  rod  of  iron,  to 
those  that  are  contumacious.  Grant  that  thy  truth  may  have  free  course  to  run  and  be  glo- 
rified in  all  the  world.  We  thank  thee  that  the  days  draw  near,  and  that  the  blessed  work 
begun  in  thy  time,  and  followinff  through  thine  apostles',  still  speeds  on.  And  though 
it  passes  in  and  out,  as  mighty  battles,  with  various  evolutions,  so  thou  art  at  times 
hiding  thy  people  in  their  conflict.  Though  they  seem  borne  back  and  defeated, 
thou  art  pressing  evermore,  and  continually,  the  enemy,  and  thou  shalt  give  full  and  final 
victory  to  thy  cause.  The  earth  shall  be  saved.  The  race  shall  be  regenerated — not 
merely  the  few  that  are  scooped  out  by  the  Church;  for  the  day  shall  come  when  thou 
wilt  have  the  whole  earth,  and  all  its  generations,  at  thy  feet.  Men  shall  be  born  to 
know  the  Lord,  and  shall  grow  up  in  holiness;  and  the  law  of  purity  and  of  wisdom  and 
of  rectitude  shall  govern  men  and  nations.  We  rejoice  to  believe  it;  and  though  we 
shall  not  see  it  here,  we  work  for  it,  and  in  the  faith  of  it.  And  we  believe  that  we  shall 
see  it  from  the  heavenly  land,  working  there  still  as  here,  in  sympathy  with  thee,  and 
rejoicing  there  as  hero  in  all  that  is  good  and  noble. 

And  now.  Lord,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  teach  us  to  be  more  wise  in  the  administra- 
tion of  truth.  Teach  us  how,  here,  at  home  and  everywhere,  to  prove  ourselves  Christ's 
men  in  everything.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  prepare  us  for  the  events 
that  are  preparing  for  us.  We  ask  not  to  know  anything  of  to-morrow.  Only  give  us 
thyself,  and  there  can  nothing  befall  us  that  shall  not  bo  good.  Grant  us  thine  own  pre- 
sence. Comfort  us  in  solitude.  Cheer  us  in  despondency.  And  grant  relief  to  all  that 
are  in  affliction,  and  that  shall  walk  in  affliction  and  bereavement.  Lift  the  light  of  thy 
countenance  upon  any  that  are  drooping.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  Christ  may  bo  all 
things  to  us,  and  to  all  of  us;  and  in  all  emergencies.    In  every  station  of  life,  may  we 


PAUL  AND  DEMETRIUS.  36 

have  this  open  door,  and  this  waiting  Lord,and  this  ruling  heart,  and  this  omnipotent 
hand,  to  which  we  shall  fly.  Grant  that  thus  living  we  may  rejoice  in  thy  work,  and 
Bing  psalms  of  praise.  And  when  we  come  to  die,  may  it  be  with  triumph;  and  may  we 
riae  to  immortality.  And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.  Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Ouit  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  us  in  the  word  spoken.  Grant 
that  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  may  become  dear,  unspeakably  precious,  to  us.  May  we 
learn  how  to  hear  thy  voice  rather  than  men's.  May  we,  by  a  sensitive  conscience,  grown 
more  and  more  critically  discerning  by  use,  by  culture  in  thy  word,  by  prayer,  and  by 
fidelity  to  all  our  convictions,  come  to  that  power  of  conscience,  and  to  that  discern- 
ment, which  shall  interpret  the  way  of  God  and  the  voice  of  God  to  us.  Oh!  that  we 
might  live  for  the  whole  world.  Oh  !  that  wo  might  join  ourselves  to  all  men.  Oh !  that 
we  might  lift  ourselves,  blessed  Savior,  to  thy  side,  and  look  down  upon  the  world  as 
thou  didst  when  thou  didst  suffer  for  thine  enemies,  and  all  of  them,  and  didst  pour  out 
thy  blood  to  redeem  the  whole  earth.  Oh  I  where  are  our  hatreds  ?  How  ashamed 
should  we  be  of  all  our  baser  feelings !  May  we  belong  to  thee,  and  to  all  thine,  and  to 
everything  that  is  good,  and  just,  and  pure,  and  of  good  report. 

And  now,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  us,  pastor  and  people,  in  the  temporary  separ- 
ation that  is  to  follow.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  our  lives  and  our  health  may  be  pre- 
cious in  thy  sight.  But  yet,  do  with  us  what  seemeth  good.  To  slay  or  to  give  life  is 
equal  mercy  if  it  is  thy  will.  If  we  are  spared,  may  we  come  together  again  in  due  sea- 
son,  to  take  up  the  armor  which  we  lay  down;  to  resume  the  labor  which  we  have  sus- 
tained. And  may  this  Church  live,  so  long  as  it  bears  a  pure  testimony,  and  is  a  clear 
shining  light— and  we  pray  that  that  may  be  through  many  generations.  "We  pray  that 
this  Church  may  be  a  continuous  fountain  of  large,  true,  catholic.  Christian  faith. 
Spread  abroad,  we  pray  thee,  the  truest  gospel  everywhere;  and  fill  the  earth  with  thy 
glory.  And  tO  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  shall. be  praises  everlasting. 
Amen, 


III. 

CONSOLATIONS 


OF   THE 


Suffering  of  Christ. 


INVOCATION. 

Our  Father,  we  thank  thee,  that  again  this  morning*  hath  found  us  in 
this  place  of  endeared  memories.  Thou  hast,  by  thine  oft  presence,  conse- 
crated this  place.  It  is  the  house  of  God  to  our  souls.  It  is  filled  with 
more  than  the  memory  of  father  and  mother,  and  brother  and  sisters,  in  our 
homes.  Here  have  the  windows  of  heaven  been  opened.  Here,  to  our 
sight,  has  been  the  gate  Beautiful.  Here  angels  have  ascended  and  descend- 
ed. Here  thy  promises  have  wrought  wonders  for  us.  The  bread  has  been 
multiplied.  The  waters  have  been  divided.  The  dead  have  lived  again. 
All  thy  wondrous  works  have,  in  epitome,  been  wrought  in  us,  and  before 
us,  and  thou  hast  taught  us  here  to  know  the  preciousness  of  our  own  being, 
and  the  wondrous  love  with  which  thou  hast  loved  our  souls,  and  lifted  us 
above  care  and  trouble  into  the  very  atmosphere  and  precinct  of  heaven  it- 
self. Wherefore  we  thank  thee  for  the  place,  and  that  we  are  brought  into 
it  again,  with  the  full  expectation  that  thou  wilt  here  renew  thy  mercies. 
Accept  our  thanksgiving ;  and  grant,  now,  in  the  beginning  of  our  series  of 
services  for  the  year,  that  presence,  that  visitation  and  influence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  by  which  we  shall  have  the  use  of  our  own  powers,  and  by  which 
we  shall  be  led  without  error,  into  all  truth.  Glorify  thyself,  and  bless  ua 
thus,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Redeemer.    Amen, 


/L 


CONSOLATIONS 

OF  THE 

SUFPERING  OF  CHRIST. 


'Tor  the  sufferings  of  Clirist  abound  in  us,  so  our  consolation  also  aboundeth  by  Christ.''-" 
t  Cor.  I.  5. 

"  For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suffered,   being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are 
tempted."— Heb.  II.  18. 

<>» 


This  is  one  of  the  wells  of  consolation.  The  well  on  which  Jesua 
sat  at  Sychar,  and  which  the  patriarch  opened,  remains  there  still.  For 
thousands  of  years,  without  an  hour's  stinginess,  it  has  given  out  freely 
of  its  water.  The  lips  are  countless  that  have  sought  it.  The  old,  old 
Hebrews ;  the  men  of  the  ten  tribes,  before  then*  dispersion ;  the  Syri 
ans,  in  their  incursions  ;  the  Samaritans,  in  their  time ;  the  Ci-usaders  ; 
the  wandering  tribes  of  Bedouins  ;  the  Turks ;  the  French ;  the  pil- 
giitns  of  every  nation  under  Heaven — all  these  have  been  there,  and 
taken  refreshment  from  this  well  which  the  old  patriarch  opened.  From 
its  brink  have  gone  up  thanks  from  little  children,  and  theii"  over  weari- 
ed mothers,  from  sweaty  laborers,  and  sun-bm-nt  travelers.  How  long 
and  how  large  is  the  bounty  of  a  single  well  like  this  in  a  thu'sty  land ! 
Indeed,  it  rose  upon  the  Psalmist  as  one  of  the  traits  of  a  very  saint, 
that  he  opened  a  well.  "  Blessed  is  the  man  "  "who,  passing  through 
the  valley  of  Baca,  maketh  it  a  well."  Isaiah  spiiitualizes  the  thought 
(and  that  brings  us  back  to  our  text) :  "  With  joy  shall  ye  di-aw  waters 
put  of  other  wells  of  salvation."  These  passages  are  wells  of  salvo- 
t'on. 

Out  of  these  wells  a  thousand  times  as  many,  perhaps,  have  di'awn 
refreshment,  as  ever  drew  literal  water  from  the  well  at  Sychar.  They 
are  the  wells  in  "  the  valley  of  Baca."  They  are  full  of  that  very  wa- 
ter of  which  Jesus,  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  well  at  Sychar,  spoke  to 

SrxnAY  MoKHiXG,  Sept  26, 1869.— LESSON  :  Heb.  n.    HruNS  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Noi 


38  CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CERIST. 

the  woman  of  Samaria,  saying  that  the  water  which  he  should  give  her 
should  spring  up  ever-living,  needing  not  to  be  di-awn  for  the  wants  of 
eveiy  transient  hour. 

The  first  thought  that  withstands  om*  appropriation  of  this  declara- 
tion, both  as  it  respects  the  consolation  which  we  derive  from  the  suf- 
feiing  of  Christ,  and  the  fact  that  ia  his  temptation  we  are  to  find  outlet 
for  our  own,  is  this  question :  Can  a  Divme  Being  suffer  ?  I  should 
rather  put  the  question,  Can  one  be  a  Divine  Being  in  such  a  world,  and 
over  such  a  world  as  this,  and  not  sufier  ?  If  we  cai-ve  in  om*  imagin- 
ation a  perfect  God,  with  the  idea  that  perfectness  must  be  that  which  is 
relative  to  himself  alone — that  he  must  be  perfect  to  himself  in  intelli- 
gence ;  perfect  to  himself  in  moral  character ;  perfect  to  himself  in 
beauty,  and  in  transcendent  elevation  above  all  those  vicissitudes  and 
troubles  which  arise  from  imperfection — if  thus  we  make  oxu-  God,  and 
in  no  way  give  him  roots  in  humanity ;  in  no  way  lead  him  to  have 
sympathy  with  infirmity,  then  we  have  not  a  perfect  God.  "We  have 
a  carved  selfishness  embellished.  We  have  a  being  that  cannot  be  Fa- 
ther to  any  thought  that  springs  from  the  heart. 

Is  God  a  stone  carved  to  beauty  %  Is  he  a  di'eamy  optimist,  who, 
seeing  some  far  away  end,  cares  nothing  for  all  the  steps — all  the  toUa 
and  troubles — which  lead  toward  it  %  Is  not  God  a  God  of  sympathy, 
grieved  with  om-  giiefs,  pained  at  our  sufierings,  canying  our  sins,  and 
so  canying  them  that  by  his  stripes  we  are  healed  ? 

A  God  that  cannot  sufier,  and  sufier  in  his  Godship  nature,  can 
scai'cely  be  presented  to  the  human  soul,  in  all  its  weaknesses  and  trials 
and  wants,  so  that  it  shall  be  acceptable.  We  need  a  suflTering  God. 
It  was  the  very  ministration  of  Christ  to  develop  that  side  of  the  Di- 
vine Being — the  susceptibility  of  God  to  sufier  through  sympathy,  as 
the  instrument  and  channel  of  benevolence  by  which  to  rescue  those 
that  sufier  through  sin. 

But,  could  he  he  tempted  of  evil  f  and  coidd  he  siffer  in  that  re- 
lation f  Consider  the  history  of  Jesus,  and  let  that  be  the  answer. 
Recall  to  your  mind  through  what  portal  he  entered  upon  his  public 
life — the  gi-and  temptation  of  the  wilderness,  where  for  forty  days  and 
forty  nights  he  underwent  inconceivable  temptation.  Consider  the 
three  years  of  life  in  society  where  he  submitted  himself  to  every  one 
of  those  gu'ds  and  attritions  and  thrusts  which  belong  to  every  human 
experience,  and  where,  sm-ely,  he  was  as  susceptible  of  sufiering  tempt- 
ation as  we,  and  more,  because  the  magnitude  and  bulk  of  his  being 
was  greater — for,  as  I  shall  show  in  a  moment,  fthe  power  of  suflfering 
is  in  the  ratio  of  the  magnitude  of  the  being  who  sufiers,  and  not  in 
the  occasion  that  ofiers.)  Consider  that,  as  he  entered  his  ministry 
through  the  poitals  of  temptation,  so  fee  departed  from  it  in  the  same 


CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CnRIST.         39 

way.  The  mystery  of  Gethsemane  is  even  more  sublime  and  less  pen- 
etrable than  the  mysteiy  of  the  wilderness.  Hence  "  in  all  points,"  it 
may  be  said,  he  was  "  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sip." 

But  how  shall  one  think  that  Christ  was  "temj)ted  in  all  points  like 
as  we  are?"  He  never  sinned,  and  therefore  he  never  suffered  remorse. 
We  suffer  remorse ;  and  could  Christ  be  said  to  be  "  tempted  in  all 
points  like  as  we  are  "  if  he  never  knew  remorse  ?  He  never  sustained 
the  relations  which  we  sustain.  He  was  neither  husband  nor  father. 
He  was  mechanic ;  but  he  never  was  civil  ruler  nor  candidate  for  posi- 
tion. Surely,  the  temptations  which  most  severely  gird  men  must  have 
been  unknown  to  him  in  such  deprivation.  Did  he  know  all  the  anxi- 
eties which  spring  from  the  various  relations  of  life  without  having  sus- 
tained those  relations  ? 

But  mark  !  All  trials,  springing  from  whatever  cause,  come  back  in 
om-  experience  to  some  original  faculty,  and  record  themselves  there ; 
and  if  eveiy  faculty  and  attribute  of  Chi-ist  was  proved  to  the  uttermostj 
so  that  it  may  be  truly  said  that  no  combination  of  cu-cumstances  can 
ever  wring  the  conscience,  or  put  to  proof  the  reason,  pride,  love  ot 
praise,  benevolence,  or  mercy,  as  these  qualities  have  been  proved  in 
the  Savior,  does  it  need  that  he  should  have  sustained  all  the  different 
relationships  which  men  sustain  ?  Might  he  not  have  had  every  part  of 
his  nature  put  thoroughly  to  proof,  and  to  a  proof  transcending  any 
experience  of  ours,  without  having  been  obliged  to  go  into  the  same 
places  and  cu'cumstances  which  are  known  to  our  experience  ? 

Men  may  lose  money,  one  by  having  it  burned,  another  by  having 
it  sunk  in  the  ocean,  and  a  thu'd  by  having  it  stolen ;  but  the  loss  of 
money  is  the  same  in  eveiy  case,  and  the  pang  of  loss  is  one,  though 
the  occasion  and  method  of  loss  may  be  three. 

An  arm  is  made  strong  in  one  case  by  the  anvil,  in  another  case  by 
the  plow,  in  another  instance  by  the  oar,  and  in  another  by  the  gym- 
nasium. And  so  when  a  feeling  is  made  perfect,  the  training  by  which 
it  is  made  so — that  which  tries  it  and  puts  it  to  proof — may  be  one 
thing,  or  another,  or  another.  But  if  it  be  brought  to  its  maximum 
proof,  it  makes  no  difference  what  the  circumstance  or  occasion  or 
cause  is. 

The  point  is  this :  that  eveiy  single  attribute  which  is  tried  in  us  was 
tried  in  Jesus  Christ — the  difference  being,  that  when  we  are  tried  wei 
are  overmatched,  and  when  he  was  tried  he  was  "  without  sin." 

But  from  this  initial  view  rose  up  a  lai-ger  one ;  namely,  the  divine  i  I 
natiu-e  of  Christ,  and  the  relations  which  that  will  have  to  his  sympa-  ' 
thetic  knoAvledge  of  suffering  ;  for  I  now,  as  I  intimated  that  I  j 
should,  remark,  that  the  quality  and  extent  of  suffering  depends  not  half  I 
BO  much  on  the  exciting  causes  of  it,  as  upon  the  nature  of  the  faculty  ' 


40  CONSOLATIONS  OF  TEE  SUFFERING  OF  CHRIST. 

which  suffers.  It  is  the  power  of  suffering  that  is  inherent  in  any  faculty 
that  measui-es  suffering,  and  not  the  magnitude  of  the  aggression  which 
is  made  outwardly.  For  there  are  many  who  will  stand  up  and  have 
theii-  name  battered  as  if  they  were  but  a  target  almost  without  suffer- 
ing, the  natm-e  and  quality  of  the  love  of  praise  in  them  being  such 
that  it  is  not  woxmded  nor  hm-t ;  while  there  are  others  to  whom  the 
slightest  disparagement  is  like  a  poisoned  aiTow,  and  rankles  with  ex- 
quisite suffering.  There  be  men  who  all  then-  life-long  walk  under  an 
arch  that  rains  down  abuse,  and  care  nothing  for  it ;  and  there  are 
others  who,  if  touched,  as  it  were,  but  by  the  point  of  a  needle,  are  in- 
oculated with  incurable  agony.  It  is  the  quality  of  a  faculty  that  deter- 
mines how  much  one  suffers  by  it. 

A  stroke  of  a  pound  weight  upon  a  bell  two  inches  in  diameter,  will 
give  forth  a  certain  amount  of  sound.  Let  the  bell  be  of  one  hundi-ed 
pounds  weight,  and  the  same  stroke  of  one  pound  will  more  than  quad- 
ruple the  amount  of  aerial  vibration.  Let  the  bell  be  increased  to  a 
thousand  pounds,  and  the  same  stroke  will  make  the  reverberations 
vaster,  and  cause  them  to  roll  yet  fmther.  Let  it  be  a  five  or  ten  thou- 
sand pound  weight  bell,  and  that  same  stroke  that  made  a  tinkling  on 
the  small  bell,  makes  a  roar  on  this  large  one. 

The  veiy  same  quality  that  being  struck  in  a  small  being  produces 
a  certain  amount  of  susceptibility,  being  stnick  in  a  Being  that  is  infi- 
nite, produces  an  infinitely  greater  experience ;  for  feeling  increases  in 
the  ratio  of  being.  Where  we  begin  lowest,  in  the  animal  kingdom, 
there  is  the  least  susceptibility ;  for  feeling,  or  sensibility,  goes  with 
nerve;  and  nerve  apparently  comes  in  far  from  the  beginning.  But 
as  it  augments,  and  goes  up  in  quality,  the  element  of  sensibility  in- 
creases. 

Doubtless  the  analogy  goes  on  and  up.  Therefore  the  greater  the 
being,  the  greater  the  effect  of  a  given  touch  of  trouble.  The  same 
suffering  in  a  great  nature  is  a  thousand  fold  gi-eater  than  it  is  in 
a  small  natiu-e,  because  there  is  the  vibration,  as  it  were,  of  a 
mind  so  much  gi-eater,  given  to  the  suffering.  We  find,  among  our- 
selves, the  same  cause  to  produce  varying  results,  according  to  the 
natures  of  different  persons.  There  are  some  in  whom  an  unkind  word 
from  one  loved  produces  a  gi'eater  amount  of  suffering  than  in  others 
the  death  of  a  near  friend  would  produce.  There  is  a  certain  sort  ot 
conventional  necessity  for  being  overwhelmed  at  the  death  of  a  friend ; 
but  if  we  were  to  lake  statistics  of  hearts,  I  think  we  should  find  that 
there  is  every  degi'ee  of  suffering  caused  by  bereavements  which  afflict 
men,  according  to  the  sensibility  of  those  that  suffer.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  men  who  are  not  much  troubled  because  those  whom  they 
loved  (as  much  as  they  could  love  anything)  were  taken  from  them. 


CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CUEIST.         41 

The  death  of  a  friend  creates  sadness  in  some.  The  sadness  becomes 
painful  for  an  hour  or  two  in  others.  The  pain  increases  in  still  others. 
It  is  anguish  in  others.  It  is  overwhelming  in  still  others.  The  inten- 
sity of  the  suffering  is  according  to  the  magnitude  of  the  suffering  part. 
The  same  event,  as  we  see  it  reflected  in  its  influence  upon  human  life, 
produces  results  along  the  scale  of  a  faculty  according  to  the  magnitude 
and  sensibility  of  that  faculty. 

Now,  transfer  these  thoughts  and  illustrations  to  the  divine  nature. 
There  is  no  experience  among  us  that  goes  far,  compared  to  the  distance 
and  route  it  travels,  when  judged  by  the  divine  and  the  infinite.  The 
chord  in  om*  souls  is  short  and  stubborn.  The  chord  in  the  divine  soul  is 
infinite ;  and  its  vibrations  are  immeasurably  beyond  any  experience  of 
our  own.  Soitow  in  us  is  of  the  same  kind  as  sorrow  in  God ;  and  yet, 
as  compared  with  the  sorrow  of  God,  human  sorrow  is  but  a  mere  puff. 
Love  in  us  moves  in  no  such  cu-cles  as  it  does  in  God.  In  him  it  is 
never  dimmed  by  any  such  glooms  of  fear,  nor  sullied  by  any  such 
smoke  of  passions,  as  it  is  in  us.  It  is  not  in  Jesus,  as  in  us,  a  mere 
household  tajDer,  burning  when  sheltered,  and  at  that  thi-owing  its  light 
less  and  less  strongly  the  more  the  space  is  augmented.  God  is  a  sun, 
and  his  love  goes  out  like  sunlight,  infinite,  inexhaustible,  not  measured 
like  a  vintner's  cup,  to  a  precise  quantity,  but,  without  measure,  over^ 
flowing  as  the  waters ;  unfathomable  as  the  ocean ;  all-persuasive  as  the 
light  and  the  heat.  But  if  the  offsjDring  effects  of  love  are  universal 
and  infinite,  what  must  be  the  nature  of  that  attribute  which  is  capable 
of  such  results  ? 

In  the  same  way  we  might  reason  in  respect  to  divine  justice — its 
scope,  its  susceptibility,  its  power  of  receiving  impressions,  as  well  as 
of  producing  impressions ;  of  the  divine  mercy  ;  and  of  the  divine  in- 
dignation. 

We  see,  then,  how  wonderful  was  the  trial  through  which  Christ 
passed.  If  it  was  a  trial  that  is  to  be  measured,  not  by  the  excitant,  not 
by  the  occasion,  but  by  the  susceptibility  of  an  infinitely  sensitive 
divine  natm*e,  we  cannot  measure  what  the  temptations  of  Christ 
were  by  simply  looking  upon  the  persons  that  tempted  him.  It  was 
not  that  Satan  tempted  him :  it  was  that  God  was  tempted.  It  was 
not  that  one  of  his  beloved  disciples  betrayed  him :  it  was  that  the 
divine  Heart  was  betrayed.  Hunger  in  us ;  the  not  having  where  to 
lay  one's  head ;  the  lonesomeness  which  men  feel  when  they  are  con- 
Bciously  cut  off  from  the  sympathy  of  their  fellows — these  are  no  meas- 
ures of  the  sufferings  which  Chi-ist  experienced  from  the  same  causes. 
The  yearnings  of  an  infinite  heart,  such  as  God's,  cannot  be  measured 
by  the  slight  and  easily-cured  yearnings  of  men.  Qui'  God  is  not  greater 
than  we  by  the  things  in  which  he  differs  from  us,  so  much  as  by  his  sim- 


42  CONSOLATIONS  OF  TEE  SUFFERING  OF  VERIS'l. 

ilarities  to  us.  He  is  like  us ;  but  that  likeness  goes  on  augmenting. 
Love  in  God,  for  instance,  is  what  love  is  in  us ;  but  that  love  which 
is  in  us  a  thi'ob,  in  him  augments  to  a  volume  inconceivable  in  our 
personality.  Human  natm'e,  carried  in  one  way,  runs  toward  the  ani- 
mal and  the  earthy.  Carried  in  the  other  way,  it  inins  toward  spuit — 
toward  God.  The  divine  Being  is  not  some  mysterious  and  glorious 
other  Being,  but  an  infinite  and  inconceivably  perfect  manhood  of  the 
same  sort  as  ours.  When  we  see  him,  we  shaU  see  him  as  he  is,  and 
shall  see  om'selves  more  clearly  in  him  than  we  ever  saw  ourselves  in 
om'selves. 

All  our  traits  have  their  original  in  God.  He  was  tempted,  and  he 
suffered,  under  temptation,  the  same  line  of  thought  and  feeling  that 
we  do — only  without  sin.  But  he  was  made  a  perfect  Captain  of  our 
salvation.  He  was  made  to  be,  by  the  things  which  he  suffered,  just 
the  One  to  go  before  us  in  imagination,  in  all  trial  and  thi-all,  in  all 
sorrows,  in  all  burdens  and  cai*es,  in  all  anxieties,  yeai'nings  and  aspu-a- 
tions  ;  because  he  knows  what  we  suffer,  having  been  tempted  just  as 
we  are,  the  only  difference  being  that  he  suffered  more,  and  yet  with- 
out sin. 

Upon  this  basis  I  will  make  one  or  two  points  of  application. 

1.  There  can  be  no  possible  experience  in  the  human  soul  which 
will  not  be  perfectly  intei-preted  to  God  out  of  his  own  heart.  We  are 
obliged  to  di-aw  often  upon  om-  imagination ;  and  at  that  we  can 
scarcely  enter  into  the  sufferings  of  men.  An  avaricious  man  cannot 
possibly  understand  the  sacrifice  of  an  over-benevolent  and  conscien- 
tious man.  An  avaricious  man  reproaches  himself,  as  he  lays  his  head 
upon  his  pillow,  that  he  was  betrayed  into  the  weakness  of  giving  away 
to  a  beggar,  on  that  day,  some  funds.  Right  over  against  him  is  a  be- 
nevolent man  who  hardly  quiets  himself  to  sleep  because  he  missed  an 
opportunity  of  bestowing  a  charity,  where,  with  a  little  more  alacrity 
and  a  little  more  care,  he  might  have  had  a  chance  of  confemng  hap- 
piness. These  two  men  cannot  understand  each  other ;  or,  if  they  do, 
they  must  do  it  by  imagination.  The  best  men  in  this  world  are  often- 
times the  poorest  men  to  govern  you.  That  is,  they  are  men  who  are 
removed  from  the  sphere  of  your  sympathy,  in  that  they  scarcely  can 
understand  you.  Such  a  man  is  so  built  that  the  reason  predominates, 
and  the  moral  sentiments  predominate,  and  he  has  little  of  the  animal 
natm-e,  bemg  slender  of  neck  and  small  of  basilar  organization.  But 
is  he  never  tempted  ?  It  may  be  that  to  selfishness  and  avarice  he 
is,  but  never  to  violence,  never  to  theft,  and  never  to  deceit.  His 
instincts  run  in  moral  dkections;  and  when  he  looks,  from  his  or- 
ganization, high  above  all  ordinaiy  temptations,  down  on  bull-headed 
men,  fierce  with  blood,  strong,  wi-estlmg  with  mighty  temptations  of 


CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  STIFEEBING  OF  CHRIST.        43 

life,  lie  can  neither  undei'stand  them  nor  believe  there  is  anything  foi 
Buch  men  but  damnation.  Woe  be  to  the  man  that  is  coarsely  or- 
ganized, and  that  has  no  mercy  except  that  which  he  can  find  at  the 
hands  of  a  very  finely  organized  man,  who  never  had  one  of  his  thi'usts 
of  trouble  or  trial !  A  man  who  is  open  and  generous  cannot  measm-e 
the  contempt  which  he  feels  for  a  mean,  stingy  man.  And  yet,  that 
mean  and  stingy  man  is  a  man.  He  has  his  sorrows  and  sufferings. 
He  has  immoitality  in  him  struggling  to  get  free.  For  him  Christ 
died.  Poor  as  he  is  in  the  sight  of  men ;  unwelcome  as  he  is  in  the 
way  of  friendship ;  little  as  he  is  before  men,  after  all  he  kas  a  Savior. 
A  great  Heart  there  is  that  suffered  for  him,  and  that  now  throbs  for 
Inm. 

Why,  there  are  clean  diseases  and  there  aa*e  nasty  diseases ;  but  a 
good  and  true  physician  or  surgeon  takes  the  most  disagreeable  of  all 
diseases  just  as  quickly  as  the  most  agreeable.  Yea,  if  they  are  mighty 
in  thi'eats,  he  takes  them  all  the  more  readily,  because  the  skill  that  can 
cm'e  such  awful  diseases  magnifies  the  man  that  wields  it.  And  I 
sometimes  think  that  this  is  the  meaning  of  Christ,  when  he  says  that 
heaven  is  gladder  of  one  bad  man  called  back,  than  of  all  good  men. 
It  is  a  veiy  easy  thing  to  manage  good  men — comparatively  it  is  easy ; 
though  it  is  hard  enough  to  manage  even  them.  But  as  where  a  man 
is  most  awfully  sick,  and  given  up  by  all,  a  physician  steps  in,  and 
stands  by  him,  and  will  not  go  forth  till  the  plague  is  stayed,  and  the 
fountain  is  cleansed,  and  health  comes  back ;  so  Christ,  when  he  sees 
men  that  are  low-browed,  and  low-headed,  and  low-thoughted,  stands 
by  then-  side,  and  calls  manhood  out  of  the  gi-ave  of  theii-  being,  as  he 
called  Lazarus  out  of  the  grave  of  his  death.  Oh !  the  salvation  of  such 
a  man — how  it  redounds  to  the  glory  of  God.  There  is  encouragement 
in  working  among  degraded  men  in  the  example  of  Chi-ist,  who  began 
at  the  bottom  and  worked  towai-d  the  top,  instead  of  beginning  at  the 
top  and  working  toward  the  bottom.  He  was  born  low,  and  of  the 
poorest  parents.  More  than  that,  he  was  born  under  the  stigma  of 
being  illegitimate.  Nothing  can  be  lower  than  that.  And  from  that 
point  in  the  stable,  he  worked  upward.  And  he  was  most  found,  in 
his  ministrations,  by  the  side  of  the  harlot  and  the  publican — by  the 
Bide  of  those  that  society  scoffed  at ;  and  the  only  men  that  called  forth 
thunder  from  the  lips  of  Jesus,  were  those  who  stood  high  in  power 
and  culture  and  refinement,  but  used  these  qualities  only  to  be  inhuman 
with  them,  and  did  not  care  for  those  below  them.  They  were  the 
men  of  whom  he  said,  "  Woe !  woe ! "  as  if  the  thunders  of  the  coming 
judgment  had  already  begun  to  sound  in  then-  ears. 

There  is  no  possible  experience,  then,  of  the  lowest  natui-e,  that  ifi 
not  easily,  familiarly  known  in  the  presence  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus 


44         CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CEBIST. 

Every  man  that  has  wallowed  in  bestiality ;  every  man  that  has  been 
subject  to  the  temptations  which  belong  to  deceit  and  dishonesty; 
every  man  that  has  felt  the  fiery  thrusts  of  the  passions ;  every  man 
that  has  experienced  the  envies  and  jealousies  which  come  in  the 
attritions  of  society ;  every  man  that  has  had  gi-eat  hopes  turned  to  dis- 
appointment— eveiy  such  man  can  go  to  Jesus,  and  say,  "Lord,  thou 
hast  not  sinned ;  but  these  feelings  that  are  tried  in  me  to  the  uttermost 
have  been  tried  in  thee;"  and  the  response  from  heaven  would  be,  "In 
that  I  have  been  tempted,  I  am  able  to  succor  those  who  are  tempted." 
There  is  succor  for  every  man  who  is  tempted,  no  matter  how  low  he 
may  be.  There  are  men  who  stand  in  the  shadow  of  perdition ;  there 
are  men  who  say  they  are  tempted  of  the  devU ;  there  are  men  who, 
fi-ora  the  very  beginning,  count  themselves  unworthy  of  hope ;  and  yet 
no  temptation  befalls  a  man  that  is  so  low,  or  so  gross,  or  so  brutal, 
that  he  cannot  carry  it  mto  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  say,  "  Oh,  thou 
Tempted  in  All  Points  as  I  Am,  help  me ;"  for  that  is  his  name — 
Tempted  in  All  JPohits  as  I  Am. 

Nothing  is  so  exquisite  in  you,  nothing  is  so  multitudinous  in  you, 
nothing  is  so  venomous  and  j^ainful  in  you,  in  the  way  of  moral  temp- 
tations, that  it  has  not  had  some  part  in  the  experience  of  Christ,  so  that 
it  is  interpreted  to  him  perfectly.  And  every  sigh,  every  groan,  eveiy 
asph'ation,  every  thought,  that  will  not  even  look  up,  but  that,  looking 
down,  despairs — God  knows  them  all,  and  knows  them  quick ;  for  they 
bound,  as  it  were,  against  his  heart,  bringing  up  suggestions  of  trials 
in  his  own  self. 

2.  God  looks  upon  all  the  trials  of  men,  whether  of  sin,  or  of  ordin- 
ary providence,  as  a  parent  looks  uj)on  a  child's  trials ;  as  a  physician 
looks  upon  a  patient's  symptoms ;  as  a  teacher  looks  upon  a  pupil's  low 
inexperience. 

We  have  been  taught  that  God  hates  sin,  and  abhors  sinners.  "We 
have  been  so  taught  that  we  could  not  avoid  the  inference  that  God 
was  inaccessible  to  his  creatures ;  that  our  God  sat  upon  the  summit  of 
a  cliff  full  five  thousand  feet  sheer  above  us.  To  be  sm-e,  on  one  side 
there  has  been  cut  in  the  rock  a  straight  and  narrow  way ;  but  at  the 
bottom  are  men  that  are  without  feet,  men  that  are  without  hands,  and 
men  that  are  swollen  with  di'opsies ;  and  how  shall  they  climb  uj)  that 
way  ?  The  inference  of  the  teaching  that  we  have  had  has  too  often 
been,  "  There  is  a  God  of  mercy  up  there :  if  you  will  only  go  up  this 
narrow  shining  way,  and  reach  him,  he  will  accept  you."  Ah !  the  tide 
is  out,  and  at  the  base  of  the  cliff  there  are  hundreds  who  cannot  go 
up  ;  and  if  there  is  not  a  God  to  go  down  to  them,  there  is  no  God  for 
them.  It  is  for  the  poor,  it  is  for  the  weak,  it  is  for  the  helpless,  that 
we  need  a  Savior.     The  strong  can  take  care  of  themselves,  relatively 


COJS^SOLATIONS  OF  TEE  SUFFERING  OF  CHPdST.         45 

spealdng;  but  what  shall  become  of  those  who  are  weak  tlu-ough  stress 
of  sin  ?     Wliat  shall  become  of  the  poor  and  needy  ? 

Brethren,  we  have  a  God  that  seeks  men.  You  do  not  find  him, 
but  lie  finds  you.  As  a  lamb  is  caught  in  the  thorns  and  thickets,  so 
men  are  caught  in  snares.  And  as  one  mu-ed  cannot  go  after  relief, 
but  must  have  relief  come  to  him,  so  God  searches  for  men  that  are 
snared.  He  goes  out  to  find  them.  He  is  a  Father.  He  is  more  than 
a  Father — a  God ;  for  fiitherhood  is  only  one  bright  conception  that 
sprang  from  the  soul  of  God. 

There  is,  therefore,  no  possible  experience  which  one  needs  to  cover 
up  between  himself  and  God.  Shame  tends  to  hide.  We  too  often  draw 
near  to  God  with  the  more  honorable  class  of  our  transgressions.  Ah! 
it  were  better  to  be  honest  with  ourselves,  to  be  honest  with  our  God, 
and  to  speak  freely  and  plainly.  For  naked  and  open  are  we  before 
him  with  whom  we  have  to  do,  blessed  be  God !  Therefore  there  is 
not  one  single  wicked  thing  in  you  which  has  sprung  up  since  you 
began  to  live  a  Christian  life,  that  has  surprised  God  in  the  least. 

Persons  sometimes  think,  "  Ah !  if  that  friend  knew  this  he  would 
not  love  me.  I  would  not  have  it  come  to  the  ears  of  my  patron,  or 
defender,  or  friend,  for  anything.  He  would  be  disappointed.  He  took 
me  to  be  high  and  noble ;  but  if  he  found  this  out  he  would  cast  me 
off." 

Now,  there  is  nothing  for  God  to  find  out  about  us.  He  knows  all 
about  you.  When  he  took  you,  he  took  you  knowing  the  uttermost. 
And  you  never  will  disappoint  him  by  being  worse  than  he  thought 
you  would  be.  You  never  will  sin  where  he  did  not  expect  you  to  sin. 
Your  guilt  never  will  be  greater  than  he  made  up  his  mind  to  bear  with 
and  pardon  when  he  took  you.  He  took  you  as  a  mother  takes  her 
chUd.  She  thanks  God  for  it,  though  she  knows  it  will  be  vain  and 
proud  and  selfish,  and  that  it  wUl  have  all  the  evils  of  temper  that 
belong  to  the  race  from  which  it  comes.  It  is  hers,  and  in  spite  of  its 
faults  she  loves  it  with  unspeakable  love.  And  God  clasps  everv  soul 
that  he  once  takes,  and  takes  it  for  good  or  for  bad.  The  wedding 
between  the  soul  and  God  is  one  that  knows  no  divorce,  either  here  or 
hereafter. 

"  Let  us,  then,  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  gi-ace,  that  we  may 
obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  )ieed."  So  says  the 
apostle  ;  and  the  basis  of  the  exhortation  is  this  :  God  knows  it  all.  He 
has  felt  all  that  you  feel.  He  has  had  the  same  trial  of  fiiculty  that 
you  have  had.  He  sympathizes  with  you.  He  loves  you.  It  is  his 
delight  to  bring  sons  and  daughters  home  to  glory.  He  was  himself 
made  perfect  that  he  might  do  that  very  work  to  which  he  invites  you. 

3.  We  see  that  there  is  a  light  thrown  upon  suflering  of  eveiy  kind 


46  CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CHRIST. 

connected  with  Chi-ist,  as  illustrating  his  feeling  in  the  divine  econo- 
my, and  its  moral  government.  We  see  that  suffering  is  not  that 
fuliginous,  sulphurous  thing  which  we  have  too  often  been  accustomed 
to  regard  it.  It  is  sometimes  an  infii-mity,  sometimes  a  misfoitune, 
and  sometimes  a  sin  ;  but  whichever  it  is,  there  is  in  it  argument  of 
patience.  Christ  suffered  too.  Ai-m  yom-selves,  therefore.  Hear  him 
saying,  "Ye  in  this  world  shall  have  tribulation;  but  be  of  good  cheer: 
I  have  overcome  the  world."  Hear  him  saying,  "Because  I  live,  ye 
shall  live  also."  Hear  him  saying,  in  our  text,  "For  in  that  he  himself 
hath  suffered,  being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted." 
Is  it  sickness  of  body  ?  Is  it  disappointment  of  outward  support?  Is 
it  the  overthrow  of  all  your  worldly  expectations  ?  Is  it  the  bitter 
thrust  of  the  child's  disobedience  %  Is  it  bankruptcy  of  heart  at  the 
loss  of  one  much  beloved?  Is  it  trouble  occasioned  by  your  own 
pride?  Is  it  the  irritableness  of  yom*  passion?  Is  it  some  surprising 
sin  that  leaped  out  like  a  lion  from  ambush,  and  took  you  down  ?  Is 
it  backsliding  along  the  soiled  and  slimy  way  of  the  passions?  Is  it 
any  duty  so  great  that  you  dare  not  assaU  it  ?  What  is  the  trouble  or 
trial  that  you  have  ?  Is  it  greater  than  those  troubles  and  trials  that 
overshadowed  Jesus  ?  Is  it  possible  for  the  fibre  of  your  little  soul, 
however  much  it  may  be  tried,  to  suffer  in  any  du-ection  as  Jesus 
Chi-ist's  great  sounding  soul  suffered  iu  that  same  dkection  ?  He  has 
declared,  "Because  I  have  been  a  sufferer,  right  where  you  are,  and  was 
triumphant,  I  have  power  to  give  triumph  to  you." 

Come  boldly,  then,  to  this  suffering  Savior.  Make  his  sufferings 
argument  of  your  consolation ;  and  rejoice  in  this,  that  you  are  strong, 
because  gi-eat  is  he  that  hath  undertaken  for  you. 

Great  is  Jesus,  because  he  is  God.  Great  is  God,  because  he  loves. 
Great  is  love,  because  it  shall  cleanse  and  redeem,  and  yet  shall  be 
Bovereio-n,  because  every  knee  shall  how,  and  every  tongue  shall  con 
fess  to  the  glory  of  God. 


COJVSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  OURIST.        47 
PRAYER    BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  draw  near  to  thco,  O  thou  ascended  Savior!  and  take  hold  upon  thee  with  all  oui 
Bouls;  for  thou  art  to  us  very  God.  "Whom  have  we  in  licaven  but  thee?  All  the 
thoughts  which  we  frame  into  the  Father's  image  are  thoughts  which  wo  have  borrowed 
of  thee.  All  tliat  which  enkindles  joy  and  hope  in  us,  we  have  borrowed  of  thee.  We 
come  unto  the  Father  by  the  thoughts  which  we  have  borrowed  from  thy  life;  by  that 
character  which  thou  hast  framed  before  us;  by  all  the  sympathies  which  we  have  learned 
to  love  and  call  divine.  All  that  we  worship  in  the  Father  is  but  that  which  we  see  in 
thee.  We  rejoice  that  there  is  this  unity.  Though  we  cannot  frame  a  knowledge  of  the 
Infinite;  though  we  cannot  understand  the  division  of  thy  nature  and  being,  when  wo 
draw  near  to  thee  in  love,  there  is  but  the  one,  whether  it  bo  the  Father,  the  Son,  or  the 
Holy  Ghost.  To  us  all  is  Father,  all  is  Savior,  and  all  is  Holy  Ghost.  And  we  rejoice 
that  there  is  no  perplexity  when  our  hearts  are  filled  with  love  and  joy.  We  rejoice  that 
when  we  rise  into  the  air  of  our  nobler  feelings,  and  by  faith  commune  with  the  invisible, 
all  is  harmonious.  Only  when  we  fall  back  into  the  fear  and  degradation  and  shadow  of 
our  passions,  do  we  find  doubt  and  uncertainty,  and  questions  of  difficulty  multiplying 
on  every  hand.  Grant  that  we  may  have  that  spiritual  purity  in  which  all  doubts  are 
resolved.  Grant  that  we  may  fulfill  the  truth  of  thy  declaration,  "The  pure  in  heart 
shall  see  God." 

We  pray,  O  Lord  our  God,  that  this  day  thou  wilt  shine  upon  us  from  out  of  thine 
heavenly  height.  Kay,  stand  among  us,  that  it  may  be  as  Brother  with  brethren,  and 
Friend  with  friends.  For  thou  hast  crossed  the  threshold  of  earthly  homes.  Thou  hast 
made  thyself  dear  among  children,  and  among  their  parents.  Thou  knowest  the  world, 
and  all  its  needs,  whether  they  be  of  weakness  or  of  strength;  whether  they  be  of  wrong 
or  of  right.  Thou  knowest  perfectly  how  to  fit  thyself  to  all  the  exigencies  of  life. 
We  pray,  therefore,  that  thou  wilt  draw  near  to  us.  Give  us  not  alone  the  conception  of 
thy  divinity,  oyerarching  and  filling  with  glory  all  the  infinite  space;  but  grant  that  we 
may  see  thee  a  God  near  at  hand.  Be  Immanuel  to  us,  to-day — God  in  us,  and  with  us, 
aa  well  as  for  us  and  about  us;  for  we  very  much  need  thee.  We  need  thee  in  all  the  way 
of  life.  What  things  are  there  that  we  can  do  without  thee  but  things  which  are  of  the 
dust,  and  which  go  again  to  the  dust?  What  pleasures  are  there  that  are  not  of  thee  but 
those  which  perish  in  the  using  ? 

Oh  !  grant  that  we  may  have  to-day  yearnings  after  such  honor  as  man  cannot  give; 
after  such  treasure  as  cannot  bo  found  in  this  world;  after  such  manhood  as  is  not 
demanded  among  men.  May  we  yearn  to  be  the  sods  of  God;  to  be  the  companions  of 
Jesus  Christ,  both  in  his  tribulation,  and  in  the  consolations  of  his  sufferings.  Grant 
that  we  mny  esteem  ourselves  better  than  the  beasts  which  perish.  Oh !  give  us  that 
eppetite,  that  celestial  hunger,  which  the  sons  of  God  have.  Satisfy  the  desire  which 
thou  dost  excite.  Lord,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  in  all  our  troubles, 
whether  they  be  the  burdens  of  life,  whether  they  be  the  incertitudes  which  come  fron 
limited  thought  or  limited  power  of  judgment,  or  whether  they  be  the  sharp  temptations 
which  come  upon  us,  as  arrows  sent  by  the  evil  archer  which  strike  and  wound  us  sorely, 
we  may  have  thy  presence;  that  we  may  have  thee  for  a  refuge;  that  we  may  have  thee  to 
rest  our  thoughts  upon  in  the  hour  of  weariness.  For,  as  children  away  from  home  com- 
fort themselves  in  the  thought  of  father  and  mother,  so  we,  while  exiled  from  heaven, 
long  to  have  the  thought  of  thee  so  near  and  so  dear  to  us  that  we  can  run  home  in 
imagination,  and  be  no  more  exih^d,  but  ever  present  with  the  Lord. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  to  all  in  thy  presence,  according  to  their  several  circum- 
stances, that  grace  which  they  especially  need.  Grant  confirmation  to  those  that  are  as 
a  reed  shaken  in  the  wind.  Grant  steadfastness  to  those  that  hitherto  have  been  roving 
and  drifting  hither  and  thither.  Grant  that  all  those  who  are  perplexed  with  doubt,  and 
with  trouble  of  mind  thereby,  may  have  that  certainty  which  the  witness  of  thy  Spirit 
gives  to  them.  Grant  that  those  who  have  been  bereaved,  and  are  mourning  under  the 
strokes  of  thy  hand,  may  be  comforted  by  thy  presence,  and  may  see  the  wonders  which 
thou  art  working  under  the  vail  of  darkness  and  aiUiction. 


i8  CONSOLATIONS  OF  THE  SUFFERING  OF  CHRIST. 

Lord,  we  pray  that  we  may  not  desire  foreyer  to  be  clusters  because  they  are  fair  to 
the  sight.  May  we  be  willing  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord  should  pluck  us  and  crush  us, 
that  we  may  be  as  wine  in  his  cup. 

AYe  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  to  those  who  are  restored  from  sickness, 
and  are  brought  to  the  house  of  God,  and  around  whose  grateful  minds  this  day  swarm 
thoughts  of  gratitude  and  impulses  of  thanksgiving,  access  to  thee.  May  they  bo  able  to 
pour  out  their  souls  before  God,  knowing  that  it  is  not  little  to  him,  though  it  be  small 
in  them.  May  they  know  that  God  gives  value  to  the  smallest  gifts  of  true  hearts,  and 
makes  them  in  his  taking  more  than  they  were  m  their  giving. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  thy  presence  may  be  with  those  who  are  yearning 
and  longing  for  others;  those  whose  hearts  are  burdened  not  for  themselves;  those  who 
axe  Buffering  for  others — for  their  clearance,  for  their  ennobling,  and  for  their  contirma- 
tion  in  all  hope  and  in  all  good.  Walk  with  them;  talk  A-ith  them;  fold  them  in  thiue 
arms,  and  in  thine  own  bosom,  that  they  may  go  forth  as  from  the  sanctuary,  ready  and 
strong  again  to  bear  their  burdens. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  those  who  suffer  from  the 
stings  of  poverty,  and  misfortune,  from  persecution,  from  the  annoyances  aud  cares  of 
the  world,  and  all  its  venomous  dust.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may  be  able  to  cast 
their  cares  and  their  burdens  upon  the  Lord.  There  may  they  rest  where  there  is  ever- 
lasting strength;  and  may  they  be  able,  from  day  to  day,  to  renew  this  blessed  consecra- 
tion, and  take  this  strength,  which  is  for  them,  aud  for  all  that  need  it.  Though  they 
cannot  bear  themselves  up,  may  they  have  the  wings  of  the  Almighty  to  lift  them;  and 
so  may  they  be  carried  even  as  the  eagle  carries  its  young. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord,  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  the  members  of  the 
different  families  that  are  represented  in  this  Church.  Bless  the  households.  Bless  the 
dear  little  children.  Bless  those  that  would  fain  stamp  virtue  and  pit'ty  upon  them  in 
the  early  periods  of  their  lives.  Bless  our  Sabbath  schools  and  our  Bible  classes.  May 
both  those  that  teach  and  those  that  are  taught  be  taught  in  the  higher  class  of  God. 
And  may  the  seeds  of  everlasting  life  be  early  sown,  and  bring  forth  fruit  a  hundred  fold. 

Bless,  we  beseech  of  thee,  all  that  are  strangers  in  our  midst.  Sanctify  to  them  the 
errands  aud  purposes  of  their  lives.  Follow  their  thoughts  wherever  they  go.  And  may 
their  very  thoughts  be  a  channel  through  which  blessings  shall  be  carried  to  those  who 
are  dear  to  them  as  their  own  lives. 

Bless,  we  beseech  of  thee,  all  thy  Churches,  to-day,  and  all  thy  ministering  servants. 
Bless  thy  cause,  under  every  form.  Bless  schools  and  colleges  and  seniiuaries  of  learn- 
ing. Bless  the  various  channels  of  intelligence — papers  aud  magazines  that  are  sent 
forth  as  leaves  for  the  healing  of  this  nation.  Grant  that  all  influences  may  be  for  the 
furtherance  of  truth  and  piety  and  true  spirituality.  Let  thy  kingdom  come  to  the  sup- 
pression of  war.  Let  superstition  flee.  Let  all  revolutions  and  shakings  of  the  earth  bo 
for  the  advancement  of  thy  final  glory.  Let  thy  kingdom  come,  and  thy  will  be  done 
upon  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son  and 
Spirit.    Amen. 


IV. 

Treasure  that  Cannot  be  Stolen. 


INVOCATION. 

We  are  drawn  to  thee  by  the  outgoings  of  thine  o'^'n  heart  for  lis,  bless- 
ed Saviour.  It  is  thou  that  dost  want  us  more  than  we  thee,  though  we 
need  thee  utterly ;  for  in  thee  we  live  ami  move  and  have  our  being,  though 
it  be  unconscious  life.  Grant,  then,  to  us,  the  opening  of  thy  heart  to-day. 
There,  as  in  a  palace,  may  we  dwell,  royally  at  home,  knowing  that  these 
things  are  ours  because  we  are  Christ's  and  Christ  is  God's.  May  we  have 
full  fellowship  with  thee  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  rejoice  this  day  in  fullness 
of  joy — ^joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  And  may  thy  name  be  honored 
in  the  life  and  experience  of  thine  own  people  here,  that  others,  beholding 
their  light  and  joy,  may  be  drawn  by  thee,  and  thou  be  united  to  all  that 
are  thine.  Bless  this  day  to  the  work  of  the  recovery  of  souls  lost,  and  to 
edification  and  comfort  of  souls  found  and  now  walking  in  the  right  way; 
glorify  thyself,  we  beseech  of  thee,  in  all  thy  sanctuaries  everywhere.  And 
may  it  be  a  day  of  praise  and  of  gladness.     We  ask  it  for  Christ  Jesus'  sake, 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 


"Lay  not  up  for  rourselves  treasures  upon  earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt,  and 
where  thieves  break  through  and  steal ;  but  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven,  where 

neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steaL" Matt. 

VI.  19,  20. 


The  instinct  of  property  is  one  which  distinguishes  between  human 
beings  and  the  members  of  the  animal  kingdom  beneath  them.  There 
is  the  germ  and  rudiment  of  this  disposition  to  store  up  property  shown 
in  some  animals,  in  that  they  store  up  then-  food;  but  beside  this  there 
is  no  prevision  in  the  animal  kingdom  to  any  considerable  extent ;  there 
is  no  power  of  projecting  thought  into  the  future,  and  organizing  the 
present  in  reference  to  some  remote  jDeriod. 

This  instinct  of  property  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  faculties 
which  generated  the  power  of  foresight,  which  is  neai'ly  connected  with 
faith ;  so  that  it  is  remotely  suggestive  of,  associated  with,  analogous 
to,  a  semi-moral  quality. 

The  acquisition,  organization,  management  and  enjoyment  of 
wealth,  are,  and  have  been,  the  grand  stimulants  of  industrial  life ;  and 
industrial  life  itself  has  been  the  foundation  of  morality ;  and  morality 
is  the  only  proper  foundation  of  true  spnituality. 

Up  to  a  certain  point,  then,  the  pursuit  of  wealth  is  made,  by  divine 
]>rovidence,  a  means  of  development  and  civilization.  It  plays  a  paiit 
in  civil  life  which  is  not  to  be  ignored,  and  certainly  not  to  be 
denounced.  Nor  should  we  expect,  if  the  word  of  God  be  truly  his 
revelation,  that  he  would  beat  down  with  his  right  hand  those  truths 
which  he  organizes  and  supervises  with  his  left ;  or  that  he  would  say 
to  men  in  the  outwai'd  life,  "  Labor,  save,  organize,"  while  at  the  same 
time  he  said,  "Lay  not  up  treasure  upon  earth." 

Only  to  a  limited  degi'ee,  however,  has  business  capacity,  with  the 
wealth  which  flows  from  it,  power  to  civilize,  and  to  ameliorate  the 
human  condition.  It  works  up  to  a  certain  point  well.  If  it  stops 
there  it  is  in  coincidence  with  divine  providence.  If  it  attempt  to  go 
beyond  that,  it  becomes  discordant,  and  meets  ^dth  spmtual  opposition, 

SuxDAT  MoRMNG,  Oct.  3, 1869.— LESSON  :  Matt.  VT.  19-34.    Htjixs  (Plymouth  CollectiQji) : 
Ko8.  816  898,  907. 


50  TREASURE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

not  simply  in   the  gi-eat  realm  of  cause  and  effect,  but  also  in  the 
realm  of  revealed  spiiitual  truth. 

As  a  lower  part  of  God's  economy,  as  among  the  early  foiinda^ 
lions  and  material  elements,  the  desire  for  wealth,  and  all  those  means 
of  j)rocuring  it  which  these  desires  insph'e,  are  beneficial ;  but  they 
must  stop  at  the  point  w^here  God  designed  that  they  should  stop. 
Beyond  that,  other  elements  must  come  in.  If  carried  beyond  their 
proper  bounds,  they  cause  as  much  mischief  as  in  then*  right  degree 
they  produce  hapiDiness  and  prosperity. 

It  is  this  truth,  that  riches  contribute  to  happiness,  which  all  the 
world  has  learned,  but  learned  without  degree  of  knowledge.  It  is  a 
special  truth,  limited ;  but  it  has  been  taken  for  a  generic  truth,  unlim- 
ited. There  is  a  general  impression  that  riches  may  make  a  man 
perfectly  happy : — not  that  they  always  do,  because  men  do  not  know 
how  to  use  them ;  but  that  if  men  knew  how  to  use  them  they  would ; 
that  there  is,  somehow,  and  somewhere,  locked  up  in  them,  the  secret 
of  universal  haj^piuess. 

The  other  truth,  that  riches  alone  can  tndke  no  man  happy,  has  had 
expositors  in  every  age.  There  have  been  some  philosophical  or  moral 
teachers  who  have  shown  that  mere  i^roperty  cannot  build  up  manhood. 
And  there  are  among  men  some  who  recognize  this  truth  practically 
and  thoroughly.  Among  us  there  are  some.  In  the  great  roaring 
maelstrona  over  the  way,  there  are  a  few.  The  best  men  that  live  on 
the  continent  live  in  New  York,  and  Boston,  and  Philadelphia,  and 
Washington.  The  nearer  men  live  to  hell,  the  better  they  are — if  they 
are  good!  Then-  gilt  is  fii-e-bm-nt,  and  does  not  easily  rub  off.  A  man 
who,  under  severe  and  terrific  and  various  temptation,  is  able  to  main- 
tain a  pure  spiiitual  manhood ;  a  man  who  has  fought  the  battle  of 
manhood,  at  the  very  jaws  of  perdition,  and  has  been  conqueror,  and 
stands  up  as  conqueror,  is  a  better  man  than  he  who  has  had  no 
experience  and  no  battle  at  all  to  fight.  Therefore  I  say  that  in  Wall 
Street  there  are  as  good  men  as  there  are  anywhere  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  You  shall  find  men  there  that  have  been  tempered,  disciplined, 
proved — and  not  found  wanting.  I  do  not  think  that  they  march  in 
platoons  and  regiments ;  but  there  are  some.  And  in  every  age  there 
have  been  men  who  have  gained  wealth,  and  employed  it,  and  yet 
known  that  it  was  but  then*  servant.  And  never  will  it  go  higher  than 
the  pocket.  Never  will  it  go  as  high  as  the  heart.  "  If  riches  increase, 
set  not  your  heart  upon  them,"  said  the  psalmist.  There  are  men  who 
know  how  to  follow  that  injunction,  and  who  do  it.  There  are  only 
a  few,  but  there  are  a  few,  who  are  practically  free  from  the  illusion  of 
the  illimitable  power  of  wealth  for  the  production  of  happiness. 

There  are  others  who,  under  whip  and  spui-  of  preaching,  externally, 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  51 

professionally,  perfunctorily  believe  the  same  thing.  There  are  a  gi-eat 
many  of  you  who  will  sit  hero,  the  banks  being  shut,  and  the  stores 
being  shut,  and  no  business  being  transacted,  and  a  better  class  of 
faculties  being  evoked,  and  operative,  and  wHl  listen  while  sweet  mem- 
ories and  a  tliousand  tender  associations  are  awakened  in  you,  and  I 
discoiu-se  to  you  upon  the  relations  of  wealth  to  the  sphitual  and  social 
elements ;  and  you  will  bow  your  head  and  believe  wliat  I  say,  for  the 
time  being,  sincerely,  but  not  jiotentially.  As  soon  as  you  are  fau'ly 
free  from  Sunday,  you  will  be  flxirly  free  from  the  Sunday  sermon,  and 
fairly  free  from  the  effects  of  it.  You  not  only  will  be  free  from  it, 
but  you  will  look  back  upon  it  as  a  pleasant  song  ;  as  something  sweet. 

While  the  young  man  is  in  the  gay  circle  in  the  evening,  and 
stands  in  the  chai-med  coterie,  and  the  sweet  sentiment  is  warbled  from 
both  the  keys  and  the  lips,  it  seems  to  him  that  nothing  was  ever  more 
enchanting  and  more  divine  than  that  thin  and  slazy  song,  that 
touches  every  feeling  in  him.  But  to-morrow  morning,  wdien  he  girds 
himself  for  the  day's  duty,  he  feels,  "  I  have  that  proud  man,  and  this 
stern  man,  and  these  complicated  difficulties  to  encounter,  and  I  must 
buckle  myself  to  the  battle."  And  in  the  pauses  and  intervals  of  this 
tremendous  daily  struggle  he  thinks  of  that  song  of  the  evening  before, 
and  it  seems  to  him  like  the  merest  illusion  of  the  most  evanishing 
di"eam.  The  idea  that  such  a  thing  as  that  should  be  thought  a  matter 
worthy  a  man's  attention  seems  absurd. 

And  that  is  about  the  category  into  which  sermons  go.  On  Sun- 
day, sermons  are  of  interest  to  us,  veiy  likely ;  but  on  Monday  they  are 
like  a  song  that  was  sung,  and  that  died  on  the  ear  in  the  utterance. 
And  men  ridicule  on  Monday  things  that  they  thought  well  of  on  Sun- 
day. "Where,  for  instance,  a  man  has  been  fortunate,  and  made  an 
uncommonly  large  deposit,  his  friend  nudges  him  as  they  go  along  the 
street,  and  says,  "  I  thought  you  understood  yesterday  that  riches  were 
dangei-ous  !"  "  Dangerous  ?"  says  the  man — "  well,  yes  ;  but  I  like 
danger !"  And  the  pleasant  conversation  and  banter  goes  on.  "  The 
minister  tells  men  that  their  riches  bring  care  and  vexation,"  says 
the  man ;  "  and  yet,  I  think  for  half  a  million  I  would  be  willing  to 
bear  cares  and  vexations!"  And  so  he  dismisses  it  with  a  skeptical 
sneer  of  mu-th.  Another  man  says,  "My  minister  told  me  yesterday 
that  riches  brought  unhappiness ;  I  tliiuk  I  should  like  to  be  made 
unhappy!  I  think  a  million's  worth  of  unhappiness  would  do  me 
good !"  And  so  men  talk  about  it.  But  not  here.  Not  when  the 
minister  goes  to  see  them — if  he  ever  does  go  to  see  them — and  talks 
with  them.  "Wlien,  however,  they  get  into  the  other  sphere,  the 
woi'ld  sphere,  and  sphitual  truth  is  seen,  not  in  its  proper  hght,  but  as 
it  looks  when  men  get  into  the  dust  and  magnifying  vapors  of  business, 


52  TREASURE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

then  they  change.  The  very  men  who  on  Sunday  sentmientally 
thought  there  was  danger  in  wealth,  and  that  its  delight  was  overesti 
mated,  and  that  its  power  to  produce  soul4reasure  was  not  so  great  as 
men  supposed — those  very  men,  on  Monday,  and  on  all  the  other  days 
of  the  week,  are  of  a  different  feeling. 

Even  good  men  have  this  mania — for  it  is  a  mania.  It  is  a  passion. 
It  rises  in  men  like  an  inflammation  ;  it  ferments  in  men  like  leaven — 
and  more  and  more,  all  the  week,  the  further  they  get  from  Sunday. 
And  they  are  amazed,  when  Su^nday  comes  round  again,  to  see  how 
great  a  gulf  they  have  to  leap  in  order  to  stand  where  they  stood  last 
Sunday. 

Thus,  in  certain  moods,  in  theii*  moments  of  excitement,  in  their 
lower  moral  states  and  ranges,  men — even  good  men,  who  know 
better — come  to  have  the  feeling  that  is  common  to  the  great  herd  in 
the  world;  namely,  that  although  riches,  in  some  mysterious  sense,  are 
not  adequate  to  all  the  wants  of  life,  yet,  taking  one  thing  with  another, 
there  is  no  one  way  in  which  a  man  in  this  world  can  be  so  much  a 
man,  and  make  so  much  show,  and  gather  so  much  happiness,  and  do 
so  much  good,  as  by  being  a  rich  man. 

That  one  gate — broad  is  the  road  that  leads  to  it.  And  vast  are 
the  portals.  An  ii'on  gate,  it  is.  Gold  is  within.  And  around  about 
it  are  vast  multitudes  scrambling,  fighting,  and  contesting  each  other, 
to  see  who  shall  fii'st  enter  the  kingdom  of  Mammon  ! 

Now,  the  spuit  of  our  Lord's  teaching  is  not  that  it  is  wicked  to 
seek  wealth,  or  to  be  rich.  The  sphit  of  om-  Lord's  teaching  is  theo- 
logical and  ideal,  and  is  to  be  so  construed.  The  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  in  all  its  parts,  holds  up  the  whole  and  complete  truth,  the 
absolute  and  final  form  of  the  disclosure  of  truth.  Chiist  does  not  say 
to  us,  therefore,  that  riches  are  useless,  but  that  the  sources  of  true  and 
abiding  happiness  cannot  be  filled  by  men's  riches  alone.  There  is  b. 
treasure  which  is  not  subject  to  the  fluctuations  and  dangers  and  temp- 
tations of  worldly  wealth  ;  and  our  Master  says,  "  Lay  not  up  for  your- 
selves treasures  upon  earth" — that  is,  distinctively^,  characteristically,  as 
though  they  were  the  treasures  of  yoiir  life.  He  does  not  say  that  you 
shall  not  have  an  earthly  treasure  ;  but  exhorts  you,  in  laying  up  your 
ideal  treasure,  not  to  let  it  be  that  worldly  treasm-e  which  is  subject  to 
all  the  fluctuations  of  property.  He  says,  "  Lay  up  for  yourselves 
another  kind  of  treasm-e.  Open  other  sources  of  supply  which  are 
higher  and  nobler.  Lay  up  for  yourselves  treasm-es,  primarily  and 
distinctively,  in  heaven."  In  the  context  he  says,  "Seek  ye  first  the 
kino-dom  of.  God  and  his  righteousness."  And,  as  evidence  that  he 
does  not  believe,  and  does  not  mean  to  teach  us  to  believe,  that  prop- 
erty, or  the  acquisition  of  it,  is  wicked,  he  adds,  "  All  these  things  shaU 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  53 

be  added  unto  you."  It  is  therefore  a  question  of  pupreinacy,  and 
priority,  and  relative  emphasis.  Of  the  two  courses,  eartlily  and  heav- 
enly, which  should  a  man  mainly  seek  after? 

What,  then,  are  those  treasures  which  we  ai'e  to  lay  up  in  Heaven, 
and  which  ai-e  invulnerable  ?  Look  at  the  things  that  you  call  treas- 
ures, and  see  which  of  them  you  probably  could  lay  up  in  Heaven. 
It  surely  cannot  be  money.  That  you  cannot  deposit  there.  It  cannot 
be  houses,  and  warehouses,  and  shops,  and  ships.  There  is  no  harbor 
for  ships  there.  There  is  no  place  for  goods  nor  for  warehouses  there. 
It  cannot  be  bonds  nor  bills  receivable.  It  cannot  be  any  of  the  signs 
and  symbols  of  wealth.  None  of  these  can  be  laid  up  in  Heaven,  be- 
cause they  all  belong  to  an  earthly  state.  You  cannot  carry  your  foot 
there,  nor  that  which  covers  it.  Both  foot  and  sandal  go  to  the  dust 
alike.  You  cannot  carry  yom*  hand  there,  nor  the  tool  that  your  hand 
uses.  You  cannot  carry  your  body  there,  nor  the  raiment  that  covers 
it.  Both  of  these  belong  to  dust,  and  dust  is  inexorable  in  its  claims. 
You  cannot  carry  there  one  single  element  of  that  which  you  intensely 
strive  for,  and  stiive  for  not  without  good  reason,  if  yoiu*  strife  is  re- 
strained and  limited  by  a  higher  truth,  as  I  shall  show.  All  those 
treasures  which  are  distinctively  known  as  treasures  in  this  world, 
stop  this  side  of  heaven.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  it  is  declared,  that 
we  came  naked  into  the  world,  and  that  naked  we  shall  go  out ; 
that  we  brought  nothing  in,  and  can  carry  nothing  out.  This  i& 
absolutely  true  in  respect  to  property,  and  all  aggrandizements.  It 
is  absolutely  not  true  in  respect  to  anything  else.  Because,  we  brought 
nothing  into  this  world,  but  we  cany  a  gi-eat  deal  out,  of  some  things. 
We  came  in  a  mass  of  pulp  ;  we  came  in  a  quantity  of  mere  germs. 
We  have  fashioned  these  germs,  we  have  developed  them,  we  have 
pmned  them,  and  trained  them,  and  we  are  to  cany  out  vast  faculties, 
and  voluminous  characters.  It  is  in  a  physical,  but  not  in  a  spuitual 
sense,  that  Ave  carry  nothing  out  of  this  world. 

Neither  can  we  carry  out  of  this  life  the  ambition,  the  influence, 
and  the  power,  that  we  have  here,  and  that  are  eminent  treasm-es.  It 
you  know  no  more  than  how  to  build,  and  you  are  famed  and  skilled 
as  an  architect  or  as  a  mechanic,  that  is  veiy  well ;  but,  after  all,  it  is 
in  the  lower  sphere.  There  will  be  no  houses  for  you  to  build  in 
heaven.  There  wiU  be  no  such  cities  there  as  there  are  here.  And  if 
you  know  only  what  belongs  to  the  business  of  an  architect  or  a  me- 
clianic,  what  chance  will  there  be  for  you  in  the  other  life  ?  A  man 
whose  business  it  is  to  sell  fuel  would  have  a  poor  trade  in  the  great 
desert  of  Sahara,  where  there  is  nobody  to  buy,  and  where  eveiy thing 
is  red-hot  the  yeai*  round  !  It  is  a  very  poor  business  that  a  man  wiU 
have  in  the  other  world  who  carries  out  nothing  which  has  any  relation 


54  TREASURE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

whatever  to  that  world,  and  only  that  which  has  relation  to  this  life. 
There  may  be  a  kind  of  ambition  and  influence  that  will  go  out  with 
us  ;  but  that  which  is  ordinarily  called  by  these  names — tlie  baser 
coin  or  dross  of  ambition  and  influence  that  is  scraped  up  in  this  life — 
happily  that  will  all  stop  in  this  world.  It  will  not  go  beyond  the 
gi-ave.  Death  is  a  strainer ;  and  there  are  multitudes  of  things  that 
men  much  value  here  which  are  rubbish  at  the  mouth  of  the  grave. 
They  are  not  permitted  to  go  through. 

It  must,  then,  be  some  such  property  or  treasu,re  as  can  pass  the 
ordeal  of  death,  that  we  are  to  lay  \\\i  in  heaven.  It  must  be  some 
treasure  that  we  are  to  lay  up,  not  by  literal  carriage  or  transfer  ;  not 
by  throwing  it  actually  over. 

We  sometimes,  living  in  one  country,  di-aw  our  funds  and  invest 
them  in  another.  Men  who  fear  a  revolution  in  Germany  have  money 
in  London  and  New  York.  Men  who  are  afraid  that  some  war  or  in- 
testine con\'nlsion  wall  drive  them  out  of  France, — crowned  heads,  men 
of  eminence,  statesmen, — difiiise  widely  theii"  property,  so  that  if  they 
ever  become  jDilgi-ims  they  may  not  be  poverty-stricken.  They  di-aw 
then-  funds  and  invest  them  elsewhere,  so  that  if  they  are  diiven  into 
exile  they  shall  not  be  destitute. 

We  cannot  do  that  with  heavenly  treasures  literally.  We  cannot 
send  forward  any  bills  of  exchange.  If  we  are  going  to  lay  up  trea- 
sm-es  in  heaven,  we  must  have  some  way  of  laying  them  up  in  ourselves 
here,  beforehand. 

What,  then,  are  those  things  which  we  can  lay  up  :  and  what  are 
those  which  we  cannot  ?  What  can  we  carry  through :  and  what  can 
we  not  ? 

All  the  pleasures  of  sense  will  cease  here.  The  ministry  of  the  eye, 
for  which  God  be  thanked  eveiy  day  that  we  live ;  and  the  ministry  of 
the  ear — that  avenue  thi'ough  which,  oh !  what  noble  songs  and  an- 
thems have  walked — are  subordinate  and  low.  The  eye  fades,  and  the 
ear  grows  deaf,  and  the  tongue  is  palsied.  All  these  fiithful  stewai'ds 
of  God's  mercies  to  us  are  but  for  our  earthly  state,  and  they  will  end 
with  death.  And  though  we  make  our  eye  doubly  shai-p  by  scientific 
training,  and  though  our  ear  becomes  exquisite  by  the  variation  and 
combination  of  sound,  these  are  after  all  earthly  treasm-es.  We  camiot 
cany  them  through. 

Nor  are  the  pleasm-es  or  the  treasures- of  the  appetites  to  go  beyond 
this  life.  They  serve  a  wise  purpose,  and  in  a  proper  use  they  are  subject- 
matters  for  gratitude  to  God.  All  physical  enjoyment  is  right  within 
due  bounds.  God  meant  the  world  to  be  a  good  world  to  man,  and 
meant  man  to  be  happy  in  the  world — not,  perhaps,  in  this  age, 
or  the  next  age ;  but  comprehensively,  the  generic  creative  idea  was  to 


V 


TREASUBE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  55 

build  a  world  fitted  for  men,  and  witli  conditions  favorable  to  their 
ha|)piness  here.  WTiy,  there  is  a  s})ring  for  it  in  every  part  of  a  man'3 
nature,  from  his  toe  to  his  head,  in  and  out,  everj^iere.  God  created 
the  body  royally,  and  foreshadowed  in  it  what  he  would  do  for  the 
higher  part  of  man — the  inward  and  spiritual  nature. 

As  I  have  said,  the  treasure  of  ambition,  and  influence,  and  honor, 
and  power,  and  distinction,  all  goes  to  the  dust.  Men  walk  as  kings  to 
the  dust.  They  are  beggars  thereafter.  They  are  stripped  at  the  gi-ave, 
and  tumbled  and  rolled  into  the  diit.  And  the  first  and  highest  are 
the  meanest  and  the  last,  often,  the  moment  they  step  through  the  por- 
tal of  death.     They  cannot  carry  these  things  beyond. 

But  how  is  it  with  the  reason?  Suppose  we  have  stored  that,  built 
it  amply,  and  made  it  sensitive  to  truth  ?  Suj^pose  we  have  so  trained 
the  reason,  by  conscience,  that  we  abhor  lies,  and  exaggerations  as  parts 
of  lies  ■?  Suppose  we  have  made  om-selves  not  only  sensitive  to  truth, 
but  lovers  of  truth,  so  that  oiu-  reason  is,  as  it  were,  a  mighty  influence 
going  abroad  upon  Avings  every  whither,  seeking  to  know  the  truth  in 
men,  on  earth,  in  heaven,  in  God,  everywhere  ?  Knowledge  will  not 
necessarily  pass  tlii'ough  the  grave,  but  the  reason  will.  That  will  go 
on.  It  is  a  part  of  our  immortality,  and  will  enter  the  other  Avorld  as 
we  have  trained  it.  If  we  have  trained  it  so  that  it  is  bound  hand  and 
foot — crippled ;  if  we  have  mutilated  it ;  or  if  it  has  shrunk  for  want  of 
use,  it  goes  through  just  in  that  condition.  Just  as  we  have  dealt  with 
it,  just  as  we  have  builded  it,  just  as  we  have  educated  it,  so  Ave  carry 
it  on. 

I  do  not  think  that  a  man,  dying,  carries  all  his  afiections  into  the 
otlier  life.  It  may  be  a  part  of  the  pain  of  the  world  to  come,  that 
men  go  out  and  live  still,  in  their  bodily  conditions,  as  they  live  here, 
and  have  all  then-  intemperate  and  uproarious  appetites  upon  them  for- 
ever and  forever ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  the  saintly  throng  carry 
with  them  into  the  other  world  those  passions  whidi  make  the  waters 
of  life  tm-bid  here.  The  instincts  which  were  meant  for  the  propagation 
of  the  race,  and  for  the  feeding  of  the  jDropagated  body ;  those  lower 
and  basilar  appetites  Avhich  evidently  belong  to  the  flesh,  and  Avhich  feed 
the  flesh,  and  are  suitable  to  the  flesh — I  do  not  believe  that  we  are  to 
have  use  for  these  forever  and  forerer.  The  immortality  of  the  soul 
lies  in  the  upper  range  of  the  soul — not  in  those  clamps  and  screws  by 
Avhich  we  ai-e  fiistened  down,  as  it  Avere,  to  the  hull  of  this  ship  in 
which  we  are  sailing  here.  The  feelings  in  the  upper  range  grow 
broader,  and  are  immortal,  and  the  reason  among  them ;  and  as  Ave 
nave  trained  the  reason  here,  so  it  shall  begin  there.  If  it  is  royal  in 
its  ncAv  birtli,  it  begins  its  ncAV  career  royally ;  but  if  it  is  slniveled  and 
shrunk,  it  begins  its  career  accordingly.      Every  man  that  is  con- 


56  TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

scientiously  a  lover  of  the  ti'uth,  and  is  making  his  reason  clearer, 
stronger,  more  comprehensive,  less  bound  and  limited  by  prejudices 
and  passions,  and  less  eaten  by  the  rust  of  laziness — that  man  is 
laying  up  treasure  for  heaven ;  and  in  this  sense,  in  heaven.  He  cer- 
tainly is  laying  it  up  so  that  it  will  find  its  way  there.  And  no  young 
man  that  loves  intelligence,  no  young  maiden  who  loves  to  make  her 
reason  more  resplendent  than  personal  charms,  wUl  ever  forget  it  or  be 
sony  for  it  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  That  is  something  which  goes 
on,  and  beyond  this  mortal  sphere. 

Suppose  the  soul  is  made  rich  here  by  a  commerce  of  friendship  in 
this  life.  It  may  be  that  there  is  much  of  friendship  which  is  useful  in 
its  place  ;  but  which  still  is  perishable :  for  friendship  has  a  paper  cur- 
rency, which  is  symbolic  of  solid  metal  behind.  There  ai-e  a  thousand 
things  that  we  do  incidentally,  which  tend  to  lubricate  the  way  of  life, 
and  make  it  full  of  respects ;  but  they  belong  really  to  this  lower  world. 
They  are  the  cii-culating  medium  of  friendship  here.  But  it  is  true 
that  they  who  purify  friendship,  who  deepen  it,  who  strengthen  it ; 
they  who  believe  in  the  household,  and  all  the  sweet  affinities  of  it ;  they 
who  learn  to  love  then*  fellow  man,  to  live  by  then*  sympathies  one 
with  another,  in  their  generosities,  in  trust,  in  the  interchange  of  con- 
geniality, and  disinterestedness,  and  approval,  and  praise,  and  good  will ; 
they  who,  moving  among  men  as  in  a  vast  bazaar,  are  perpetually  in- 
terchanging the  stores  of  love,  and  taste,  and  kindness,  and  friendship, 
who  are  polishing  the  links  of  friendship,  and  making  them  brighter  and 
brighter  all  their  life  long — they  may  not  carry  into  the  other  life  pre- 
cisely those  ways  and  habits  of  interchange  which  are  peculiar  to  our 
relations  in  this  world ;  but  those  faculties  which  have  been  exercised 
in  friendship,  and  have  gi'own  to  it,  and  been  educated  to  it,  go  up  and 
ai*e  stored  full  of  the  seeds  of  everlasting  happiness.  Blessed  were  they 
here  ;  but  ah !  the  fruitions  of  this  world  are  nothing  to  the  harvests 
of  single  kernels  which  will  wave  a  hundi-edfold  in  the  other  life. 

Lay  up  a  great  deal  in  yom*  heaits.  It  does  not  matter  whether 
you  lay  up  in  your  pocket  or  not ;  but  see  to  it  that  the  reason  is  stored 
full.  See  to  it  that  the  affections  are  educated,  and  widened,  and  deep- 
ened. Woe  be  to  that  man  who  uses  his  affections  as  a  barter  and  a 
bribe  for  outward  wealth  that  perishes  !  How  many  men  there  are  who 
utterly  desecrate  then*  house  and  their  household  as  an  outfold,  as  it 
were.  A  mere  place  for  eating  and  sleeping,  a  scouring  house  and 
bath-room,  a  mere  dormitoiy,  it  is.  It  should  be  the  gate  of  heaven. 
It  should  be  the  Lord's  school.  It  should  be  a  place  of  sweetness,  of 
all  delicacies  and  refinements,  of  all  cultm-e.  And  standing  not  far 
from  the  eternal  shrine,  there,  in  the  household,  whether  it  be  hard,  or 
whether  it  be  easy,  men  should  put  their  heart  to  school,  that  it  may 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  57 

leai'n  how  to  be  heavenly.  And  yet  how  many  men  there  are  who  regard 
theh'  house  as  only  a  place  for  rest  and  repair.  It  is  to  them  just  what 
an  old  engine  house  is  at  a  railway  station,  where  engines  are  shoved 
in  and  cleaned  and  oiled  and  repaii'ed,  and  then  shoved  out  upon  the 
road  again.  Men  make  their  houses  just  like  a  cleaning  and  repauing 
shop,  instead  of  making  them  the  Lord's  school,  and  a  place  for  laying 
up  treasure  in  thek  higher  sentiments. 

He  that  is  a  good  man  at  home  is  apt  to  be  a  good  man  abroad. 
No  man  could  carry  the  sun  in  a  dark  lantern.  It  would  drive  itself 
out  of  it  by  the  intensity  of  its  light.  A  man  whose  heart  is  really 
radiant  cannot  help  showing  it  everywhere — in  the  car,  in  the  stage- 
coach, on  the  prau-ies,  in  the  distant  mine,  or  on  the  sea.  Even  a 
man  that  is  sea-sick,  if  he  is  a  true  gentleman,  is  different  from  any 
body  else ;  and  if  there  is  a  greater  test  than  that  I  do  not  know  what 
it  is! 

There  are  insects  that  fly  at  night,  phosphorescing  light  when  they 
have  a  muid  to,  flashing  and  shutting  up,  like  Christians  that  flash  on 
Sunday,  and  shut  up  all  the  week,  flying  thi'ough  the  dust  of  business  ! 
Such  are  not  our  models. 

I  go  into  ray  garden,  and  collect  a  handful  of  fragrant  leaves  and 
blossoms — this  leaf  of  geranium,  and  that  leaf  of  sweet-scented  verbena ; 
this  blossom  of  mignionette,  and  that  blossom  from  yonder  bush — and 
carrying  them  in  my  hand,  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  and  forgetful,  (for 
forgetting  and  thinking  are  twin  brothers,)  at  last  I  put  them  heedlessly 
in  my  pocket.  They  are  now  hid.  I  go  into  my  house,  and  instantly 
the  little  prattler  comes  running  about  me,  and  says,  "  What  you 
gotf  "I  have  got  nothing,"  I  say.  Presently  my  friends,  coming 
around  me,  commence  snuffing,  and  saying  "You  have  a  perfume  about 
you."  I  cannot  keep  the  secret.  It  T\dll  out.  If  I  do  not  tell  it,  it 
will  smell  itself  out.  These  fragrant  leaves  and  blossoms  that  I  caiTy 
concealed  from  view,  send  out  fragrance  so  that  everybody  knows  that 
I  have  some  sweet-smelling  substance  about  me. 

A  man  who  has  really  trained  his  heai-t  in  friendship  and  enriched 
his  affections,  so  that  he  is  generous  and  noble,  cannot  keep  it  secret. 
The  fragrance  of  it  Avill  diffuse  itself,  whether  he  wants  to  have  it  or 
not.     It  will  go  Avherever  he  goes,  and  make  itself  manifest. 

What  is  the  reason  that  when  you  go  into  certain  companies  you 
take  to  some  men?  You  say  of  one,  "He  was  the  homeliest  man  I 
ever  saw,  and  yet,  though  I  do  not  know  him,  there  is  something  that 
di-aws  me  to  hira."  There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  elective  afhnity  of  a 
generous  nature.  Large-hearted  men,  loving  men,  trusting  men,  that 
beget  trust,  canying  themselves  not  closely,  not  secretively,  but  openly 
and  frankly,  cannot  disguise  themselves.      Childi-en  know  them,  and 


58  TREASURE  THAT  CAXXOT  BE  STOLEN. 

dogs  know  them.      Dogs  often  are  wiser  than  men ;  and  they  knew 
whom  to  go  to,  and  whom  to  avoid.  i 

There  is  a  natural  language  of  every  feeling.  A  man  may  be  as 
good  as  any  man  on  earth  ;  but  if  he  is  proud,  there  is  an  element  of 
coldness  about  iRm  which  strikes  through.  If  a  man  is  selfish,  he  may 
smile,  but  it  will  be  like  the  glinting  of  the  sun  on  an  iceberg— bright, 
but  oh !  how  cold  !  If  a  man  be  a  true  man,  and  he  is  warm  and  gen- 
erous at  the  heart,  and  cultivated,  and  condescending  as  well,  all 
among  whom  he  goes  will  see  it.  He  cannot  hide  it.  Let  a  man  de- 
velop his  reason  royally,  and  his  affections  nobly,  and  he  will  have 
treasm-es  laid  up  in  heaven.     You  may  be  sure  of  that. 

There  is  another  tendency  of  om-  nature  which  we  think  but  little 
of,  but  which  is  vital,  and  that  is  aspii-ation.  We  are  accustomed  to 
say  "  Excelsior,"  in  fun  or  not  as  the  case  may  be  ;  but,  after  all,  that 
on  which  it  is  based  is  the  principle  of  aspkation,  which  the  Scrip- 
tm-e  calls  Jiope,  declaring  that  "we  are  saved  by  hope."  In  other 
words,  it  is  that  tendency  of  the  mind  by  reason  of  which  it  is  never 
contented  to  remain  in  a  lower  state,  but  always  wants  to  go  on  to  a 
higher  one,  and  carry  every  quality  up  and  make  it  larger  and  finer. 
It  is  that  tendency  which  leads  beings  created  in  matter  to  work  then- 
way  out  of  matter  toward  spuit,  and,  feeling  the  inspiration  of  theii- 
higher  life,  to  work  up  thitherward  all  the  time. 

This  principle  of  asphation,  which  takes  aM-ay  vulgar  content,  or 
takes  away  a  man's  conceit  of  supposing  that  he  knows  enough,  or  is 
good  enough,  is  eternal;  and,  in  its  relations  to  the  future  and  to 
immortal  happiness,  is  past  all  measuring.  That  principle  we  are  to 
store  full.     We  are  to  lay  up  treasm-es  in  this  regard. 

But  then,  there  is  that  grand  and  inexhaustible  treasure-house  of 
love— love  to  God,  and  love  to  man.  This  love  includes  that  benefi- 
cence, that  sympathy,  that  elective  affinity,  by  which  you  are  led  to  do 
good  to  a  man  who  is  your  inferior,  because  you  esteem  the  qualities 
of  excellence  which  you  see  in  him  as  belonging  to  his  being,  inde- 
pendent of  the  quality  of  character. 

This  whole  mood,  which  renders  every  creature  that  has  sentient 
life  something  to  you  ;  which  does  not  stop  with  men  ;  which  takes  in 
the  animal  kingdom  ;  which  takes  in  everything  that  creeps  and  swima 
and  flies ;  which  takes  in  organized  vitality  throughout  the  Avorld,  and 
gives  it  importance  to  you ;  this  noble  out-pouring  of  a  true  divino 
nature,  which  seeks  to  bless,  and  which  chiefly  admires  and  loves  that 
it  may  bestow  benefaction— that  is  a  treasure-house.  Oh  !  how  ample ! 
There  is  no  hell  for  love,  nor  can  there  be.  Not  the  right  hand  of 
divine  omnipotence  could  make  love  miserable  in  hell,  nor  anywhere. 
There  is  but  one  place  that  love  can  dwell  in,  and  that  is  heaven;  and 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  59 

heaven  (o  love  is  everywhere.  Where  it  is,  is  heaven;  and  where 
heaven  is,  is  blessedness,  and  bliss. 

Somctiines  men  say,  "I  have  practised  these  vu'tues  Avhich  you  tell 
about ;  but  I  do  not  think  they  amount  to  anytliing."  Did  you  sup- 
pose they  did  in  Fulton  Market?  Was  it  youi*  idea,  when  I  told  you 
that  godliness  was  profitable  in  all  things,  that  if  you  practiced  the 
Christian  virtues  they  would  come  back  to  you  in  the  shape  of  coal, 
and  quarters  of  beef,  and  revenues?  If  so,  you  are  looking  for  treas- 
ures which  can  only  be  laid  up  in  this  world,  instead  of  those  treasures 
which  preeminently  are  laid  up  in  heaven ;  which  make  that  part  of 
your  nature  rich  which  is  to  live  after  death ;  which  is  essentially 
divine;  in  which  immortality  resides;  which  is  in  sympathy  with  God 
and  God's  great  society  of  angels  ;  and  which  is  to  be  in  sympathy  with 
the  spuits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  in  sympathy  with  all  that  is 
good  and  just  in  the  time  past  and  in  the  time  to  come  on  earth,  and  is 
to  be  in  sympathy  with  all  that  is  to  make  you  wise  and  hajipy  here, 
safe  in  dying,  and  rich  beyond  all  estimate  in  the  other  world. 

"  Lay  ujJ  for  yourselves  treasm-es  in  heaven,  where  moth  and  rust 
do  not  corrupt" — and  it  seems  to  me  that  never  more  than  to-day 
was  there  a  peculiar  and  ringing  significancy  in  the  other  part  of  it — ■ 
"where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal."  The  world  in  which 
there  are  no  thieves  must  be  a  heaven !  "  Live,"  says  the  spirit  of 
inspu-ation,  "  for  that  kind  of  treasure ;  and  while  you  are  living  here 
on  earth,  see  that  you  live  so  that  you  will  have  it.  If  you  have  the 
other  kind,  it  will  not  hurt  you  for  this  world,  but  seeJcJirst  the  king- 
dom, of  God  and  his  righteoiisness." 

That  is  just  what  you  will  not  do.  Every  man  of  you  says,  "  First 
I  am  going  to  succeed  and  get  to  the  top  of  my  profession ;  and  then, 
having  secured  all  the  outlets  and  inlets,  I  am  going,  in  the  tower  of 
my  strength,  to  be  a  Christian  man.  Let  me  get  my  riches  first. 
Weakness  must  employ  cunning.  You  cannot  expect  that  a  man, 
while  he  is  struggling  to  get  out  of  the  w^ater  and  on  to  the  shore  will 
practice  a  dancing  master's  paces.  I  intend  to  get  wealth  first ;  and 
then  I  intend  to  be  a  Christian  man.  When  I  have  become  rich  I 
mean  to  be  a  good  man. 

There  will  not  be  any  room  left  then.  Men  who  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  this  world  and  its  best  excellency,  when  they  come  after- 
wards to  seek  the  kingdom  of  glory,  have  no  place  to  put  it  in. 

And  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it,  ray  friends.  You,  except  to  a  veiy 
limited  extent,  take  the  very  best  things  that  are  in  you  as  barter  for 
the  poor  perishable  things  of  this  world.  How  many  are  there  of  you 
that  so  love  the  truth  that,  when  you  ai-e  brought  to  that  point  in 
h'hich  the  glozing  of  a  lie  will  avert  the  flash  of  disapprobation,  do 


CO  TREASURE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

not  tell  the  vailing  lie  to  cover  your  moment's  suffering  ?  You  do 
not  love  the  truth  so  much  as  you  do  youi'  own  miserable  rej  utation. 
You  do  not  love  the  truth  above  all  price.  You  use  it  as  a  coin  to 
buy  a  moment'sjexemption  from  pain.  How  many  of  you  say,  "Why 
yes,  wealth  is  a  thing  to  be  desu'ed,  but  I  cannot  pay  out  this  treasure 
for  it.  My  soul-treasm-e  is  worth  more  to  me  than  any  wealth  is,  or 
ever  can  be  ?"  How  many  men  go  into  the  street  with  that  feeling  ? 
There  are  some  that  have  it ;  but  how  many  ?  How  many  men  are 
there  who,  when  it  comes  to  the  doubtful  conflict,  to  the  heat  of  the 
battle,  to  the  rush  and  roar ;  when  it  is  "  every  man  for  himself,"  and 
"  Save  who  can" — how  many  are  there  who  then  remember  that  truth, 
honor,  justice,  love,  every  one  of  them,  is  supreme,  and  has  the  image 
%nd  superscription  of  God  on  it  ?  How  many  men  remember  Calvary, 
how  many  men  remember  Gethsemane,  in  the  mighty  vortices  of  busi- 
ness? Jesus  Christ,  when  all  the  world  of  darkness,  with  its  surging 
influences  swept  about  him,  and  his  heart  and  soul  sank,  and  he  sweat, 
as  it  were,  drops  of  blood,  clung  still  to  the  sweet  and  spiiitual  purity 
of  love,  and  would  not,  in  the  extremest  hour,  give  up  the  sacrifice  by 
which  the  world  was  to  be  redeemed.  But  how  many  of  us,  when  our 
Getlisemane  comes,  will  not  sell  Christ,  and  sell  everything  in  us  that 
he  has  created,  and  rub  out  the  pictm'e  that  he  has  been  laboriously 
di'awing  on  our  souls  for  years  and  years  ?  How  many  men  are  there 
that  do  not  put  their  Master  to  an  open  shame  when  there  comes  to  be 
a  competition  between  the  treasures  of  the  upper  soul,  and  the  treasures 
of  the  lower  nature  ? 

I  do  not  stand  here  to  undervalue  wealth ;  but  I  say  that  wealth  is 
not  worth  the  snap  of  your  finger  in  comparison  with  some  other  things. 
Why,  I  could  make  you  hiss  and  deride  a  man  who  would  sell  himself 
for  money.  I  would  paint  the  picture  of  one  who  had  been  a  good 
man,  and  was  left  the  protector  of  orphan  children  that  were  heirs  of  a 
great  estate,  and  who,  when  the  time  came  that  he  could  do  it  without 
anybody's  knowing  it,  slipjDed  this  estate  into  his  own  hands,  and  thi'ew 
the  blame  upon  some  one  else,  making  it  appear,  perhaps,  that  the  man 
who  left  the  estate  left  it  carelessly.  I  would  paint  the  j^icture  of  a 
man  who,  after  going  through  a  struggle  in  his  mind,  and  weighing 
the  matter,  agreed  to  commit  this  deed,  and  sold  his  soul  to  Satan,  and 
appropriated  the  property  of  these  poor  orphans.  And  left  them  depend- 
ent on  the  charity  of  the  world.  How  would  you  hate  and  despise 
such  a  man !  But  ye  are  the  men  !  Whenever  you  barter  a  principle 
for  the  sake  of  a  little  advantage  in  a  bargain,  you  sell  yourself  for  gold. 
Whenever  you  lie  for  the  sake  of  an  advantage,  you  sell  yourself, 
Eveiy  time  you  take  advantage  of  a  man  meanly,  you  sell  yourself. 
Every  time  you  betray  honor  and  trust,  you  are  a  Judas.     Every  time 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  Gl 

you  varnish  a  man  with  smiles,  and  make  him  fan-  promises,  that  you 
may  afterwards  knock  the  feet  from  under  his  prosperity,  you  are  the 
natm-al  kindred  of  him  who  sold  his  Master  for  thhty  pieces  of  silver. 
And,  the  world  over,  every  time  a  man  gives  up  a  principle,  a  divine 
sentiment,  a  pure  affection,  for  the  sake  of  pitiable  pelf,  he  is  a  traitor 
to  God,  and  a  traitor  to  that  which  God  has  redeemed  by  the  power  of 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ — his  own  soul.  He  sets  hunself  against  the 
kingdom  of  God.  He  is  against  himself,  and  against  his  Maker,  and 
against  the  offers  of  holiness.  Woe  be  to  that  man  who  takes  the  bribe 
and  plays  traitor ! 

Oh !  that  the  children  of  content,  who  never  sought  an  ambition 
of  self,  would  rise  up.  There  are  men  who  have  seen  this  gi-eat 
game  and  conflict  of  life  go  by  them,  and  refused  to  mingle  in  it, 
except  so  far  as  they  could  consistently.  There  have  been  a  gi-eat 
many  men  who  have  said  in  themselves,  "  I  desii-e  only  my  home,  my 
wife,  and  my  dear  childi-en.  My  home  is  my  nest.  I  am  happy  there. 
I  want  enough  to  see  that  my  family  have  every  advantage  needful  to 
then-  true  cultm-e  and  development.  Beyond  that  I  do  not  ask  for  any- 
thing." These  men  have  sought  to  do  good.  They  have  illumined 
the  dark  places.  They  have  heard  the  charms  of  wealth,  letting  the 
sounds  go  in  then*  ears  and  out,  and  pass  by.  They  have  said,  "What 
is  wealth  good  for  except  as  an  instrument  of  love  and  refinement  ? 
What  can  my  soul  profit  if  it  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  its  own 
purity  and  its  own  self  respect?  There  are  multitudes  of  men  that 
have  lived  so,  that  are  living  so,  and  that  are  living  happily  so.  Oh  ! 
that  I  could  have  an  arena,  and  oh !  that  I  could  march  through  that 
arena,  of  men  who  have  sold  everything  that  was  noble  for  the 
sake  of  money,  and  ring  them,  and  see  how  much  music  there  is  in 
them.     Oh  !  that  I  could  make  one  after  another  come  up  to  the  test. 

Big  bells  are  veiy  apt  to  be  poorly  cast.  I  never  heard  of  a  bell 
that  weighed  a  great  many  thousand  pounds,  which,  first  or  last,  did 
not  break.     And  what  a  sound  a  big  bell  that  is  broken  gives  ! 

K  you  take  these  ove]■gl•o^vn  rich  men,  and  ring  them,  how  little 
happiness  you  find  in  them!  And  in  how  many  instances  is  the  old 
story  revived,  that  molteii  gold  is  poured  down  the  throats  of  rich 
men's  children  !  How  many  children  of  men  who  have  made  money 
are  miserable  creatm-es,  and  die  in  the  poor-house  !  Of  how  many  rich 
men  is  it  true,  according  to  James,  that  the  rust  of  their  gold  a)id  sil- 
ver is  a  witness  against  them,  and  eats  their  flesh  as  if  it  were  fire  ! 
How  many  are  there  of  them  whose  nights  are  turmoil,  and  whose  days 
are  giinding  days !  Not  Samson,  grinding  in  the  prison-house,  was 
more  a  slave  than  many  a  rich  man  grinding  under  the  lash  of  avarice. 

Rise  up,  widow,  to  say,   "Though  my  needle  is  all  that  supports 


62  TREASURE  TEAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN. 

me,  I  am  happy  from  the  morning  till  the  evening."  Yea,  go  and  see 
her  when  sickness  cuts  off  her  little  income,  and  she,  though  proud, 
must  subsist  upon  the  bread  of  charity,  and  hear  her  still  declare  that 
she  is  happy.  Not  far  from  here  is  such  an  one  who  for  years  and 
years  has  been  dependent  upon  others  for  her  support — a  lady  in  the 
noblest  sense  of  that  term,  full  of  refinement  and  graciousness  and  ex- 
cellence ;  and  yet,  I  would  rather  take  her  place  and  be  borne  in  the 
ai*ms  of  charity,  than  the  place  of  the  luckless  millionau-e  of  New  York. 

They  that  have  soul-treasm'e — oh !  how  much  are  they  to  be  envied 
over  those  who  have  made  treasm-e  by  sacrificing  everything  in  the 
soul. 

Young  men  and  maidens,  I  do  not  speak  thus  because  it  is  my  bu- 
siness to  preach.  It  is  not  my  business  to  preach.  I  do  not  preach  be- 
cause it  is  my  business.  I  should  preach,  salary  or  no  salary,  big  con- 
gi-egation  or  little  congi'egation.  I  preach  as  bu-ds  sing,  because  I  love 
to ;  because  it  is  in  me  to  do  it.  I  do  not  come  to  you  with  profes- 
sional au'S,  and  false  sanctities,  and  conventional  methods.  I  come  to 
you  as  a  man  to  a  man  ;  as  a  brother  to  a  brother.  I  come  to  you  to 
speak  God's  truth,  and  to  speak  it  to  your  consciences.  And  you  know 
that  there  is  no  such  happmess  as  that  which  grows  out  of  a  pure  heart. 
You  know  that  you  are  never  so  happy  as  when  you  live  in  a  gen- 
erous and  noble  mood.  You  know  that  it  is  the  "peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding,"  and  no  other  peace.  There  is  nothing  else 
that  can  meet  the  exigencies  and  troubles  of  this  world,  when  soitows 
come,  when  bereavements  open  the  grave,  w^hen  losses  shatter  men's 
property,  when  a  man's  bright  name  goes  into  eclipse ;  and  you  know 
it.  And  will  you  barter  away  this  treasure  of  the  higher  life,  this  soul- 
treasm-e,  this  treasure  which,  when  it  comes  to  the  grave  of  death,  is 
beyond  challenge.  The  gi-ave  is  God's  banki-upt  court,  which  clears  a 
man  of  his  property  and  his  debts  at  the  same  time. 

Down  to  the  gi'ave  comes  the  millionau-e.  "How  much  are  you 
worth?"  says  Death.  "Men  call  me  worth  thirty  miUions."  It  is  not 
enouo-h  to  pay  his  ferriage  !  But  he  goes  thi-ough  ;  and  when  he  has 
got  thi'ough,  his  wealth  having  been  taken  from  him,  he  is  no  bigger 
than  a  mosquito !  There  is  hardly  enough  of  him  for  a  nucleus  to  start 
on  in  the  next  life. 

Down  goes  another  man,  followed  by  throngs  and  trumpeting  bands. 
He  steps  into  the  house  of  death.  The  throng  is  hushed.  All  his 
gloiy  is  gone.  There  is  nothing  left  of  him ;  for  straight  and  naiTow 
is  the  gate  thi'ough  which  he  has  passed.  His  soul  is  so  small  that  it 
had  no  difficulty  in  getting  through  ;  but  he  has  nothing  beyond. 

Another  man  dies — perhaps  a  poor  man.  They  sling  his  coffin 
an  old  pine  box,  hardly  stained — into  a  rude  wagon  without  spi-ings, 


TREASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  Go 

and  get  a  nimble  boy  to  drive  him  off,  and  he  is  buried  in  a 
remote  corner  among  strangers.  And  nobody  cares.  His  dying 
is  not  so  much  as  the  dropping  out  of  a  punctuation  point  from 
the  sentence  of  life — and  nuich  less  a  letter  or  word.  He  di"aw3 
near  to  the  gate  of  Death,  and  Death  rises  to  gi-eet  him.  For  Death 
is  good  to  those  who  are  fit  to  die.  With  open  arms  the  pauper  is 
taken.  And  oh !  how  wondi'ous  now  is  his  beauty !  How  now,  as 
he  passes  into  the  other  life,  angels  come  flocking  to  him!  How, 
now,  the  radiant  vista  opens  before  him !  And  how,  in  the  center, 
rises  He  that  is  "Chief  among  ten  thousand  and  altogether  lovely,"  to 
say,  "  Welcome !  welcome  !"  Is  this  some  crowned  prince  ?  Is  this 
some  monarch's  son  ?  No  ;  this  is  a  pauper  of  this  world.  "  Blessed 
are  the  poor  in  spiiit ;  for  theu"'s  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

In  these  days  of  racket  and  confusion  and  excitement,  men  and 
brethren,  do  not  forget  your  reason,  do  not  forget  your  moral  sense ; 
do  not  forget  the  truths  which  your  mother  taught  you ;  do  not  for- 
get the  truths  which  make  the  memory  of  home  and  of  your  venerable . 
parents  so  serene  and  sweet  to  you.  Remember  this :  "Seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness,  and  all  these  things — all  other 
necessary  things  of  life — food,  raiment,  and  houses,  "shall  be  added 
unto  you." 


64  TREASUR E  TEA T  CANNO T  BE  STOLEI^. 

PRAYER    BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

O  thou  that  hast  borne  the  sin  of  the  world,  thou  that  art  bearing  its  sorrow,  thou 
that  loadost  thy  people  like  a  flock,  hoar  onr  supplication,  and  draw  near  to  us;  for  thou 
dost  carry  our  burdens  when  wo  cast  them  upon  thee.  Thou  dost  forgive  our  sins,  and 
heal  our  iniquities.  Thou  dost  labor,  not  only  to  hold  us  back  from  evil,  but  to  cure  the 
poison  of  evil  in  us;  and  we  draw  near  to  thee  as  the  Source  of  all  good.  Our  life  has  its 
springs  in  thine.  We  are  more  truly  allied  to  thee  than  to  the  beasts.  Though  we  are 
clothed  with  the  body,  thou,  too,  hast  had  the  human  form;  and  though  we  are  set  upon 
by  the  temptations  of  the  flesh,  and  by  this  world  around  about  us,  that  seeks  entrance 
through  every  avenue  of  sense,  thou  hast  been  tried  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet  with- 
out sin,  and  art  able  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted,  in  that  thou  hast  been  thyself 
tempted.  Thou  hast  made  full  proof  of  all  that  this  world  can  do  upon  any.  And  there 
is  no  gale  that  can  blow  that  hath  not  beaten  upon  thy  sails.  There  is  no  darkness  that 
can  be  darker  than  thy  midnight.  There  is  no  sorrow  that  can  throw  waves  higher  than 
those  that  beat  over  thy  defenceless  head.  Thou  knowest,  and  hast  taken  the  gauge,  of 
all  human  afliiction;  and  thou  wert  able  to  sustain  it,  and  to  carry  it  forward;  for  thou 
wert  a  man,  and  didst  walk  as  a  man,  and  feel  as  a  man,  and  think  as  a  man.  Thou  didst 
bear  the  load  of  this  world's  trouble  and  temptation  and  trial,  and  yet  without  flinching, 
without  falling,  without  turning  back,  without  sin;  and  thou  art  able  now  to  succor  all, 
since  thou  hast  borne  upward  thine  earthly  nature  again  into  the  glory  of  the  heavenly 
estate,  uniting  God  and  man,  and  showing  us  that  we  all  are  one,  and  that  there  is  no 
wide  gulf  or  separation  between  us — that  we  are  of  one  household,  one  family,  one  like* 
ness,  and  one  nature.  Thou  hast  there  in  thy  high  and  heavenly  estate  still  the  sympa- 
thy which  thou  didst  gather  up  among  men  upon  the  earth,  and  art  the  Savior.  To  thee 
may  come  every  one.  The  crying  child  to  thee  may  come,  though  struggling  with 
inexperience.  To  thee  may  come  age  and  its  various  burdens.  Thou  art  with  those 
that  are  busy  in  the  battle  of  life;  and  thou  ai't  with  those  who  sit  over  against  Jerusa- 
lem at  evening  under  the  palm.  Thou  lovest  to  be  in  solitude,  and  thou  lovest  to  bo  in 
the  populous  city.  Thou  art  with  thy  people  iu  the  wilderness,  and  in  the  mart,  and 
everywhere,  and  dost  know  all  their  feelings  and  trials,  and  art  the  Savior  of  all  those 
that  need  thee,  both  as  an  example  and  as  a  sympathetic  friend.  Thou  art  a  God  of 
sympathy  and  love,  long-suS'ering,  and  slow  to  auger,  and  abundant  in  mercy.  And  we 
rejoice  in  thee,  and  draw  near  to  thee  this  morning,  with  the  humble  confidence,  nay, 
with  the  boldness  which  love  inspires.  Wo  lay  our  hands  upon  thee.  Thou  art  ours. 
We  lay  our  hands  on  thine  heart,  crowned  with  love,  and  we  arj  royal,  and  stand  around 
about  thee.  More  reason  than  had  the  angels  who  kept  their  first  estate  have  we  for  glad- 
ness and  gratitude.  Eescued  and  reared  up  from  degradation  of  sin,  and  built  up  into 
the  stature  of  perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus,  how  wondrous  shall  be  our  song,  and  the 
realization  of  our  experience  in  that  heavenly  land ! 

And  now,  we  beseech  of  thee  thou  that  didst  guide  Ihy  people  through  the  wilder- 
ness, that  thou  wouldst  guide  us.  Let  not  our  feet  go  astray.  Let  not  our  heart  give 
way  to  unbelief.  Let  not  the  eternal  verities  fade  out  of  our  sight,  and  things  that 
perish  take  their  place.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  the  world  may  be  subdued  by  faith, 
that  we  "may  have  power  given  us  to  overcome  everything,  always,  everywhere,  not  in 
our  own  strength,  but  in  the  all-conquering  name  of  Jesus.  Fight  thou  in  our  right 
hands.  Stand  thou  sentinel  in  our  hearts.  Be  the  Captain  of  salvation  in  every  conflict 
for  us,  that  we  may  not  separate  ourselves  from  thee  for  one  moment,  but  may  dwell  in 
the  indivisible  bond  and  kingdom  of  love,  and  be  thine,  as  thou  art  ours,  that  thy  victo- 
ries may  be  thy  glory,  and  our  victories  may  be  thine  honor  and  thy  joy. 

Wo  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord,  tliat  thou  wilt  advance  us  step  by  step.  May  we  have 
the  testimony  every  year  that  we  are  growing  nearer  to  the  likeness  of  Christ.  May  we 
see  some  powers  weakened,  not  by  physical  might,  but  by  the  strength  of  grace.  May 
we  see  some  acquisitions,  and  some  victories.  May  we  lind  richness  added  to  some 
qualities,  and  a  larger  dominion  given  to  others.  May  we  bo  able  to  resist  temptation 
with  more  facility,  and  walk  everywhere  with  more  manliness,  and  adorn  the  name  and 
doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  more  and  more  to  the  very  end. 


TEEASURE  THAT  CANNOT  BE  STOLEN.  G5 

Bless  all  the  members  of  this  Church.  Bless  the  families  that  are  represented  in  it, 
and  all  the  dear  children  that  belong  to  them.  Be  near  to  our  Sabbath-schools  and 
Bible  claesos.  We  pray  that  the  superintendents  and  teachers  and  ofl&cers  may  be  sanc- 
tified of  God,  and  made  able  ministers  of  the  word.  We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  not 
only  those  that  are  in  the  Church,  but  those  that  are  in  any  way  coDuected  with  it. 
Bless  all  the  region  roimd  about  it.  Bless  all  churches.  Grant  that  their  conspiriug 
lights  may  shine  as  so  many  stars  of  glory  in  the  vault  of  heaven,  and  that  the  whole 
earth  may  receive  the  power  and  the  blessedness  and  the  sweetness  of  the  Gospel  of 
Christ.  Send  abroad  those  that  shall  preach,  more  and  more.  Bless  those  who  labor 
for  the  establishment  of  schools  and  academies  and  colleges.  Bless  those  who  diffuse 
sound  and  useful  knowledge  from  day  to  day,  and  from  week  to  week.  Bless  those  who 
teach  in  poor  and  -waste  places,  and  among  the  neglected  and  outcast.  May  those  who 
thus  humble  themselves  into  obscurity  and  contempt  in  imitation  of  their  divine  Master 
that  they  may  raise  up  the  lowest  and  make  them  wise  unto  salvation,  have  thy  presence 
evermore  with  them;  and  in  their  hut  and  hovel  may  they  find  the  light  of  God's  coun- 
tenance more  than  the  light  of  the  sun.  And  we  pray  that  the  leaven  which  tbey  are 
infusing,  the  seeds  of  thought  ■which  they  are  implanting  in  dark  minds,  may  have  the 
power  of  the  invisible  and  omnipotent  resting  upon  them.  And  we  pray  that  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end,  from  the  foundation  to  the  topmost  stone,  from  side  to  side, 
around  about,  within  and  without,  this  nation  may  be  seasoned  and  sanctified  with  the 
spirit  of  the  living  God.  May  truth,  and  justice,  and  purity,  and  love,  be  the  bonds  that 
shall  hold  us  together.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  overturn  ignorance,  and  destroy 
superstition,  and  take  away  cruelty,  and  aTarice,  and  greed,  and  all  our  enemies,  and  all 
the  enemies  of  mankind;  and  hasten  the  day  of  brotherhood  in  Christ  Jesus,  when  all 
the  world  shall  love,  and  Christ  shall  come  to  dwell  a  thousand  years  among  us. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  us  in  the  word  which  we  have 
spoken.  Prepare  us  to  liv«  better  lives  for  the  light  of  thy  truth,  and  for  its  warmth. 
Deliver  us  from  the  temptations  which  are  stronger  than  our  will.  Send  thy  providence, 
and  the  ministrations  of  thine  angels,  that  we  maybe  borne  up,  lest  at  any  time  we  da^h 
our  loot  against  a  stone. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord,  bless  those  that  are  in  distress,  and  those  that  are  sud- 
denly overwhelmed  with  disasters,  and  often  disasters  which  their  own  infatuation  and 
folly  have  brought  upon  them.  May  their  suffering  hearts  have  power  from  above,  and 
have  such  strange  lessons  of  God's  mercy  that  they  shall  learn  the  better  way  out  of  their 
misfortunes  in  this  world's  rude  experience. 

O  Lord  God  !  have  compassion  upon  souls,  and  teach  us  to  have  compassion  upon 
souls.  Pour  thine  own  nature  into  ours,  that  we  may  live  to  make  men  better,  and  to 
be  better  ourselves;  to  make  men  happier,  and  to  be  happier  ourselves.  May  we  lay  up 
treasures  of  happiness,  and  lay  them  up  in  that  part  of  our  nature  which  death  cannot 
corrupt;  which  shall  rise  to  immortality;  that  then,  with  practice,  we  may  go  on  forever 
und  forever  as  the  sons  of  God. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen 


V. 

Bearing,  but  not  Overborne. 


INVOCATION. 

Draw  near  to  us,  O  Spirit  of  life  and  light !  and  awaken  in  us,  as  in  the 
outward  world  the  sun  has  awakened,  all  things  that  live  and  are  pleasant. 
Breathe  that  divine  and  quickening  power  upon  our  souls,  by  which,  rising 
above  the  thrall  of  the  flesh,  and  the  dominion  of  sense,  we  may  hold  our 
way  with  thee  and  thine  to-day,  in  the  spiritual  realm ;  see  God ;  abide  in 
him,  and  have  his  Spirit  consciously  abiding  in  us ;  that  thus  we  may  become 
inheritors  of  all  the  promises,  and  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory. 

Accept  at  our  hands  the  offering  which  we  bring.  Help  us  both  to  feel 
and  yield  up  grateful  incense  of  praise  and  of  thanksgiving.  Bless  us  in 
the  reading  of  thy  word,  and  in  the  comprehension  of  its  truth.  Grant  that 
we  may  look  long  upon  thine  own  Son,  our  dear  Saviour,  and  draw  much 
from  the  lessons  of  his  suff"ering  and  his  cross.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that 
thou  wilt  help  us  in  our  communion  with  thee,  and  in  our  fellowships  one 
with  another,  to  make  this  day  bright  and  joyful  in  all  our  experiences,  at 
borne,  in  the  sanctuary,  and  everywhere. 

Ajid  to  thy  name  shall  be'  the  praise.  Father,  Son  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVEEBOENE, 


"And  he,  bearing  his  cross,  went  forth." — John  XIX.,  17. 


Any  one,  repaii'ing  to  an  art  store,  who  should  inquii'e  for  classio 
engravings,  would  be  shown  a  line  of  what  are  called  the  masters  in 
engraving — Durer,  Raimondi,  Bervic,  Muller,  and  others.  But  if  he 
should  inquu'e  for  sacred  subjects,  rather  than  for  engi-avings  as  such,  he 
would  have  presented  to  him  almost  every  scene  in  the  life  of  Jesus  which 
could  be  rendered  pictorially.  But  above  all,  he  would  find  a  harvest 
of  the  specialty  of  suffering.  In  the  mediaeval  religions,  there  was  no 
other  single  feature  that  entered  so  disproportionately  into  the  repre- 
sentations which  were  made  of  Christ,  as  the  element  of  suffering.  His 
victory,  in  the  thought  of  those  periods,  was  to  be  looked  for  in  heaven ; 
or  on  earth  at  the  close  of  his  life ;  but  during  the  passage  of  his  life 
sorrow  upon  soiTow. 

Not  only  so,  the  line  between  the  brief  endurance  and  the  enfeeble- 
ment  was  not  well  understood  nor  distinctly  marked,  by  the  mediaeval 
Christian  artist.  To  excite  pity,  and,  thi-ough  that  sentiment,  unbound- 
ed devotion,  the  Savior  was  represented  in  the  most  hear1>rending  ex- 
periences ;  and  as  it  was  far  easier  to  study  the  effect  of  suffering  from 
human  subjects  than  to  imagine  how  it  would  be  borne  by  a  divine  soul 
in  a  human  body,  we  see  the  weakness  of  human  suffering  in  the  thou- 
sands of  pictures  which  discuss  the  divine  suffering.  The  whole  histo- 
ly  of  the  trial  and  crucifixion,  as  the  culmination  of  the  suffering  of 
Jesus,  have  been  reproduced  upon  canvass  until  ait  has  exhausted  all 
possible  variations. 

A  favorite  point,  as  it  might  well  have  been  expected,  has  been  the 
going  forth  of  Jesus  bearing  his  cross.  He  had  passed  the  awful  mid- 
Light  of  Gethsemane ;  his  aiTest  there ;  his  indecent  carnage  to  the 
iity.  The  residue  of  the  night  was  spent  before  the  Jewish  council, 
which  had  been  convened,  and  were  sitting  up,  waiting  in  expectancy 
of  Judas'  success.     The  excitement  of  his  trial  prevailed  thi'ough  all 

Sunday  Mornino,  Oct.  10, 1869.— Lesson  :  John  T.  l— 18.  Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection)  ; 
KoB.  660,  284,  770. 


68  BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE. 

the  succeeding  day,  before  the  Roman  tribunal.  All  day  and  all  night 
again  he  was  tossed  about  like  a  flower  rocked  in  a  whu-ling  wind.  And 
then,  the  next  forenoon,  in  his  famished,  over-wearied  stat,e,  he  was  led 
forth.     And  he  went  forth  bearing  the  cross. 

Early  art,  seizing  this  point  of  time,  represents  Christ  as  erect,  and 
even  triumphant,  canying  the  cross  as  if  he  felt  a  renewal  of  power  at 
its  touch ;  but  later  ait  and  artists — Domenichino,  and  Raphael,  and 
others  less  spiritual,  more  sensuous,  have  shown  us  Christ  bending  under 
his  cross,  sometimes  stumbled  upon  the  knee,  or  the  knee  and  the 
hand,  and  even  lying  at  full  length  upon  the  ground,  overborne  by  the 
cross,  and  outwardly  conquered. 

But  is  there  anything  to  justify  such  a  rendering  as  that  ?  Mathew, 
Mark  and  Luke  do  not  even  mention  that  Christ  bore  his  own  cross  at 
all.  We  should  never  have  known  that  fact  but  for  John.  He  simply 
mentions  it,  saying  of  it  only  as  much  as  is  in  om-  text. 

The  movement  began,  it  seems,  from  the  judgment  seat.  The  cross 
was  laid  upon  him,  and  he  went  forth  bearing  it.  Doubtless  his  step 
was  so  hindered  that  it  was  slow.  But  they  were  in  hot  haste  to  expe- 
dite the  movement.  They  seized  upon  Simon,  a  Cyi-enian,  who  chanced 
to  be  present,  probably  because  he  was  a  swait  and  burly  fellow,  and 
made  him  a  porter,  that  Jesus,  relieved  of  the  load,  might  move  with 
greater  celerity.     They  were  anxious  for  his  blood. 

Is  it  of  any  importance  how  art  represents  this  scene  ?  Yes.  A 
picture  once  seen  gives  meaning  to  the  Scripture,  to  all  unreflective 
minds,  ever  after.  Sacred  art  may  be  called  the  evangelist  of  the 
senses. 

Consider  the  moral  influence  of  the  two  diflTerent  modes  of  pictori- 
ally  representing  Christ. 

The  earlier  and  more  noble  and  genuine  painters  represented  him, 
as  I  have  said,  erect,  and  almost  triumphant,  and  moving  with  his  cross 
upon  his  shoulder  as  if  he  had  already  triumphed  over  it.  It  is  the 
cross  upborne  by  the  divine  energy,  and  canied  joyfully,  as  if  to  illus- 
trate the  apostles  description — "Who,  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
him,  endm'ed  the  cross,  despising  the  shame."  Such  language  indicates 
loftiness,  treading  under  foot,  as  a  thing  contemptible,  and  not  worthy 
of  notice,  the  shame,  and  suffering,  and  bm-den. 

But  theology  lost  the  inexpressible  sweetness  of  the  evangelist — the 
simplicity  which  seems  to  have  been  the  reflex  of  Christ's  influence  up- 
on his  own  times  in  the  Gospel.  It  became  ascetic  in  the  mediaeval  age. 
The  Roman — that  is,  the  Tuscan — gloom,  spread  thi-ough  theology, 
and  the  sufferings  of  Christ  began  to  fill  the  whole  horizon.  And  now 
art  began  to  fall  unconsciously  from  Christ's  divinity  to  the  exhibition 
of  that  weakness  which  belonged  to  his  body.     His  face  lost  serenity, 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE.  GO 

and  became  woe-struck.  His  form  no  longer  elate  became  bent  and 
prostrate,  as  if  some  mighty  oak,  uprooted  by  the  gale,  had  fallen  its 
full  length  along  the  ground.  It  was  Chi'ist,  in  later  art,  overborne,  sub- 
dued, carried  captive  by  trouble.  True  art  represents  Christ  as  beariny 
his  cross.  Later  art  represents  Christ  as  overborne  by  his  cross.  Thei'e 
is  a  great  deal  of  difference  in  these  two  ideas,  whether  in  picture,  or 
in  moral  influence. 

In  following  the  scriptural  history,  nothing  is  more  striking  than 
th^  ail'  of  assured  victory  which  Christ  carried  with  him  even  to  the 
end.  It  is  true  that  there  were  conflicts ;  but  it  is  to  be.  remarked  that 
the  conflicts  under  which  Christ  bowed  down  were  hidden.  They 
were  conflicts  of  the  soul  along  the  line  which  separates  the  finite  and 
■  the  infinite.  They  were  sufferings  whose  relations  were  not  under- 
stood, and  are  not  understood,  but  which  "  entered  into  that  within  the 
veil."     They  were  of  God,  and  to  God. 

But  the  outward  life  of  Chiist  was  everywhere  one  of  calm  triumph. 
Human  life,  and  all  its  incidents,  he  met  bravely,  cheerfully,  serenely. 
It  is  of  transcendent  interest  to  us  to  know,  not  that  divine  love  bore 
its  earthly  lot  weakly,  and  mourningly,  and  overborne,  but  that  divine 
love  enfleshed,  and  moving  among  men,  was  strong,  that  it  had  ampli- 
tude of  willingness  for  the  tasks  that  were  incumbent  upon  it,  and  that 
it  triumphed  not  merely  at  last,  but  all  the  way  thi'ough  life. 

In  short,  in  this  glimpse  which  John  gives  us,  and  which  we  get, 
of  the  turbulent  termination  of  Christ's  shameful  trial,  what  do  we  see"? 
The  Roman  magistrate,  conscious  of  having  done  an  unjust  thing, 
slinking  back  to  his  palace ;  the  priests  and  rulers,  in  furious  ecstacy 
congratulating  each  other,  and  hurrying  forward  the  events ;  and  the 
excited  populace,  fierce  and  truculent,  roaring  along  the  crowded  street. 
Only  one  sweet  and  peaceful  thing  stands  out  on  this  lurid  backgi-ound. 
It  is  Chiist  himself.  "  And  he,"  John  says,  "bearing  his  cross, 
went  forth." 

The  whole  world  lay  heavy  upon  that  cross ;  but  he  bore  it.     Om- 
sins  and  our  troubles  loaded  the  cross ;  but  he  bore  it  aloft.     It  was 
heavier  than  man  may  know  ;  but  love  was  stronger  than  all  its  weight.  | 
And  this  glimpse  is  the  true  ejjitome  of  Christ's  life  on  earth,  under  ; 
every  valuation  of  experience,  canying  himself  in  all  the  moods  of  a 
triumphant  love. 

I.  Christ  himself,  fii-st,  and  the  apostles  abundantly  afterwards,  em- 
l)loyed  the  figure  of  the  cross  as  the  sign  of  moral  struggle.  It  is  a 
symbol  of  self-denial — of  daily  self-negation.  If  any  man  supposes 
that  this  world  was  made  perfect  in  the  sense  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  done — in  the  sense  that  it  was  a  finished  world,  instead  of 
a  world  always  finishing  itself;  if  anybody  supposes  that  God  created 


70  BEARma,  BUT  NOT  0VERB0R2^E. 

man  perfect  in  the  sense  that  he  would  not  be  ages  coming  to  himself 
then  he  has  mistaken  both  natm-e  and  scrij^tm-e.  The  world  was  made 
on  the  idea  of  unfolding  and  gi-owing — on  the  seed  idea.  As  our  Savior 
said,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  like  a  seed,  which  is  so  small  that  it 
scarcely  can  be  seen,  but  which,  when  full  gi-own,  is  so  large  that  it  is 
a  refuge  and  covert  to  the  bu-ds  and  beasts.  If  any  man  has  well  con- 
sidered this  teaching  of  Christ,  he  must  know  that  this  world  is  a  world 
where  men  are  coming  to  themselves,  and  not  where  they  have  come 
to  themselves.  And  in  coming  to  om'selves,  we  begin  low  down — in 
the  senses.  We  open  from  the  senses,  up  into  the  social  natm-e.  And 
we  go  on  through  the  social  natm-e,  up  into  the  moral  and  spiiitual 
natm-e.  And  that  which  opens  first  is  strongest,  and  has  the  most  in- 
fluence. And  we  nourish  it.  The  body  and  the  senses  carry  the  first 
power,  and  the  most  power.  It  is  only  by  many  tears  and  hard  stripes 
that  many  learn  to  make  the  second  stage,  which  is  the  development 
of  the  affections,  the  fii-st  stage  being  the  natural  development  of  the 
flesh  and  the  body.  And  by  still  harder  struggles  and  trials  do  men 
learn  that  there  are  feelings  and  tendencies  in  the  natm-e  that  God  has 
given  us  which  are  to  be  supreme  over  the  affections  and  the  senses. 
This  is  not  revealed  all  at  once.  We  learn  to  make  domestic  love 
stronger  than  our  appetites ;  and  we  learn  to  make  spu-itual  nobilities 
stronger  than  om-  affections,  or  passions,  or  selfish  interests. 

There  is  always  at  the  point  of  learning  a  despot  that  does  not  want 
to  be  dethroned.  When  the  child,  a  httle  animal,  gi-eedily  seeking  to  eat, 
drink  and  warm  itself,  comes  under  the  care  of  the  parent,  and  is  taught 
that  it  must  not  feed  itself  at  the  expense  of  its  little  brother,  it  is  learn- 
ing love.  The  parent  says,  "  You  must  be  generous,  my  child.  Why ! 
will  not  let  poor  little  brother  have  anything  ?"  and  his  great  big  stom- 
ach says,  "No !  I  want  it  all  myself."  And  the  dormant  tendency 
toward  generosity  and  the  social  affections  is  to  be  stimulated  and  en- 
couraged until  the  child  learns  that  love  is  to  be  more  generous,  and 
that  it  is  to  be  praised  if  it  overcomes  its  own  little  sensuous  instincts, 
and  becomes  kind,  and  so  sacrifices  itself.  And  by  the  time  the  child 
is  six  years  old,  he  is  ashamed  to  have  the  mother's  eye  turn  upon  him 
with  rebuke,  and  say,  "What!  took  that  away  from  the  little  baby?" 
A  little  child  six  years  old  is  just  as  much  a  pope  as  the  pope  in  Rome ; 
or  just  as  much  a  despot  as  an  emperor  on  his  throne  ;  and  it  is  only 
the  grace  of  God  that  uncrowns  and  dethi-ones  us.  Selfishness  makes 
a  man  a  despot,  whether  he  be  in  the  shop,  or  on  the  ship,  or  on  the 
shore,  or  anywhere  else.  We  all  have  selfishness  and  self-seeking ;  and 
we  all  learn  to  put  them  down  in  our  bodily  natm-e  by  the  force  of  pm-e 
affection. 

Father  and  mother  stand  in  the  place  of  God  to  the  child,  to  teach 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBOBNE.  71 

him  Low  to  take  the  feelings  next  above  the  lowest,  and  make  the  low- 
est mind  them ;  and  whenever  the  lower  feelings  have  to  mind  the 
higher,  there  is  the  taking  up  of  the  cross.  You  take  up  the  cross 
when  you  crucify  your  lower  feeUngs,  and  make  them  give  up,  and  bow 
down  to  yom-  higher  feelings. 

And  that  which  takes  place  in  the  nurseiy  and  in  the  household, 
goes  on  still  higher.  There  come  spiritual  intuitions  and  spuitual  no- 
bilities dawning  on  the  mind.  And  we  have  to  go  all  the  way  through 
om*  life  learning  to  make  om*  lowest  natm^e  mind  the  next  higher;  and 
this  the  next  higher,  and  so  on,  reducing  them  to  control,  so  that  the 
private  shall  be  a  j^rivate,  and  the  lieutenant  shall  be  a  lieutenant,  and 
the  colonel  shall  be  a  colonel,  and  the  general  shall  be  a  general,  and 
God  shall  be  Captain  over  all. 

Human  life  is  a  perpetual  series  of  developments ;  and  every  step 
of  development  is  a  development  by  which  the  natural  passions  roll  un- 
obstructed, and  are  omnipotent  over  eveiything  that  is  good;  or  else 
it  is  a  development  by  which  we  become  good.  And  if  we  become 
good,  we  do  it  by  a  process  of  perpetual  self-negation — that  is,  by 
i-efusing  a  lower  range  of  faculties,  and  giving  power  to  the  next 
higher,  from  the  lowest  to  the  very  top. 

Listen  to  Christ:  "If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  tet  him  deny 
himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me." 

You  do  not  follow  Christ  when  you  nin  after  his  name.  You  do 
follow  Chi-ist  when  you  run  after  his  example,  his  spirit,  his  nature.  It  is 
not  a  duty  which  you  impose  upon  yourselves,  as  it  were  from  the  out- 
side. In  the  natm-e  of  things,  no  man  can  follow  the  tnie  spmtual 
Christ  except  by  that  very  process  by  which  he  puts  down  the  lower 
nature,  not  extinguishing  it,  but  regulating  it,  and  subordinating  it  by 
the  superior  claims  and  power  of  the  higher. 

There  are  wide  variations  of  experience  in  this  work.  All  crosses 
are  not  alike  to  all.  If  a  man's  pride  is  eminent,  that  which  breaks  it 
will  be  a  severe  cross  to  him ;  but  if  a  man  is  not  natm-ally  strong  in  his 
self-esteem,  then  that  same  conjunction  of  circumstances  or  duty  will 
not  be  a  cross  to  him.  Therefore  crosses  do  not  come  to  us  in  the  same 
places.  If  a  man's  ear  is  as  acute  as  Mozart's,  and  he  sits  patiently  in 
meeting,  and  hears  gross  discords  and  hideous  screechuigs  all  about  him, 
and  his  ear  suffers,  and  he  says  to  himself,  "My  brethren  here  are 
doing  as  well  as  they  can,  and  for  their  sake  I  moII  bear  it,"  he  is  taking 
up  his  cross.  The  cross  is  laid  upon  his  musical  ear.  But  suppose  a 
man  says,  "I  do  not  know  Yankee  Doodle  from  Old  Hundred  :  but 
still,  I  take  up  ray  cross  and  bear  it  ?"  He  does  not  hear  anything  that 
hurts  him.  When  the  miser  is  called  to  face  the  contribution-box,  and 
all  the  neighbors  are  looking  at  him,  and  he  has  to  deny  himself,  and 


72  BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE. 

he  puts  in  his  contribution,  saying,  inside,  tearfully,  "Good  bye,"  it  is  a 
self-denial  to  him.  But  it  is  not  a  self-denial  to  a  benevolent  man,  sit- 
ting by  his  side,  who  only  regrets  that  he  has  so  little  to  give,  and  says 
to  himself,  "  If  I  had  known  that  there  was  to  be  a  contribution  to-day 
I  would  not  have  changed  my  clothes  !"  The  act  is  the  same ;  but  to 
one  it  is  a  self-denial,  while  to  the  other  it  is  not,  according  to  the  stage 
in  the  battle  between  theh  lower  and  then  higher  natm-e.  Self-denial 
comes  in  different  spots  m  different  persons.  A  thing  which,  when  it 
happens  to  you,  is  hard  to  be  borne,  when  it  happens  to  yom-  neigh- 
bor costs  him  no  trial  at  all. 

And  yet,  the  best  men,  men  in  the  most  favorable  places,  the  best 
educated  men,  and  men  that  are  surrounded  by  the  most  concordant 
mfluences,  cannot  escape.     There  is  a  cross  for  every  living  man. 

Nay,  the  great  fact  of  trouble  is  neither  a  mystery  nor  an  evil  in 
any  sense  that  makes  it  disorganizing.  Men  wonder  at  the  origin  of 
evil.  I  know  where  its  origin  was.  It  originated  with  God.  You 
might  as  well  look  at  a  steam  engine,  and  say,  "  What  could  have  been 
the  origin  of  this  vast  machine  V  Why  the  engineer's  brain  was.  If 
God  had  meant  men  to  be  polished  and  varnished,  like  the  vase  for  the 
shelf,  he  would  have  made  them  so.  But  he  did  not  make  them  so. 
He  made  them  in  germs  and  seed-forms,  and  said  to  them,  "Grow!" 
And  growing  is  labor-pain ;  and  you  cannot  get  rid  of  it.  It  is  a  part 
of  the  condition  of  organized  creation,  that  the  work  of  going  from  a 
lower  to  a  higher  state  is  like  a  new-bhth,  with  cries  and  pains  both  ways, 
to  those  that  help,  and  those  that  are  born.  And  every  man  on  earth 
who  lives  in  the  spuit  of  God,  and  in  accordance  with  the  economy  of 
God's  gi'ace,  by  which  he  is  to  shoot  up  from  lower  forms  to  higher 
ones,  must  have  troubles,  multiform,  special  and  peculiar  to  himself. 

To  attempt,  then,  to  shape  our  plans  so  as  to  be  rid  of  trouble,  and 

not  to  meet  it,  is  all  vain.      If  you  go  aside  from  one  path  where  it 

'    seems  to  loom  to  another,  you  shall  find  that  it  is  there  before  you. 

/     There  is  no  such  thing  as  Uving  in  this  world  except  in  one  or  two 

'      ways.      If  a  man  says,  "Time  and  Sense,  ye  are  my  gods;  I  give  my 

\      life  to  you  ;  let  me  eat,  diink,  and  be  merry,  for  to  morrow  I  die,"  then 

I     he  may  get  along  with  comparatively  little  trouble,  because  he  is  not 

attempting  to  grow ;  because  he  is  going  the  other  way  all  the  time. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  a  man  attempts  to  grow  wiser,  and  pm'er 

I      and  more  manly,  and  more  noble,  let  him  make  up  his  mind  that  he  has 

got  to  pay  for  these  qualities. 

Is  the  servant  belter  than  the  Master  ?  When  Christ  took  man's 
natural  lot,  and  tlnew  about  himself  the  garments  of  the  flesh, 
and  became  subject  to  time,  and  place,  and  civil  government,  and  so- 
ciety, it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  develop  through  childhood  to  man- 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE.  73 

hood — through  the  appointed  term  of  his  life — without  undergoing 
struggle  and.  trial  and  cross-bearing.  And  in  the  midst  of  these  expe- 
riences he  turns,  and  looks,  and  says,  "  I  bear  the  cross.  Are  you  any 
better  than  I  am?  If  a  man  does  not  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  me, 
he  is  not  worthy  of  me."  He  is  not  worthy  of  himself;  and  still  less 
is  he  worthy  of  his  great  Prototype. 

We  are  not  to  seek  for  trouble  and  pain  as  ascetics  do.  God  uses 
suffering  as  a  whetstone,  to  make  men  sharp  with.  After  you  have 
made  your  knife  sharp,  your  whetstone  has  served  the  purpose  for  which 
it  was  intended.  But  the  ascetics  seemed  to  thmk  that  if  the  whetstone 
was  good  to  make  a  man  sharp,  it  was  good  to  eat.  And  so  they  kept 
whetting  till  they  ground  off  not  only  the  edge,  but  the  body  of  the 
blade. 

Trouble,  self-denial,  pain,  bring  a  man  up  to  a  certain  point ;  and 
then  then-  mission  is  ended.  They  have  no  vocation  of  benefit  after 
that.  Up  to  that  point  a  man  should  not  seek  to  avoid  them,  or  evade 
them.  Therefore,  a  man  that  lays  out  his  plan  of  life,  saying,  "I  seek 
here  fortune  ;  I  mean  to  have  good  health  and  good  wealth  ;  I  mean 
to  have  everything  that  is  happy  and  pleasant  and  sweet ;  I  mean  to 
live  so  that  after  a  little  while  I  need  not  have  the  cares  and  burdens 
and  trials  of  business  ;  I  am  going  to  have  a  good  time  in  this  world  " 
— a  man  that  does  that  sets  out  to  bastardize  himself!  I  say  it  on  the 
authority  of  God.  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and 
scourgeth  every  one  whom  he  receiveth.  If  ye  endure  chastening,  God 
dealeth  you  as  Avith  sons :  for  what  son  is  he  whom  the  father  diasten- 
eth  not  ?  But  if  ye  be  without  chastisement,  whereof  all  are  partakers, 
then  are  ye  bastards."  Now,  I  should  not  have  dared  to  say  that;  but 
the  Bible  has  a  plain  way  of  talking.  There  are  men  who  have  got 
then-  wealth,  and  have  built  then-  houses,  and  enshrined  themselves  in 
men's  praise,  their  very  houses  seeming  to  pout  out  its  colors,  and  say, 
"  Have  you  seen  him  who  lives  in  here  f  And  common  men  looking 
upon  the  door-plate,  read  the  names — I  will  not  spell  the  letters ;  but 
God,  looking  on  these  same  door-plates,  reads,  "Bastards!"  And  there 
is  a  gi'eat  brotherhood  of  them.  He  that  reads  by  the  outward  eye, 
does  not  see  half  that  is  written  in  this  world.  The  spnit  reads  one 
thing,  and  the  flesh  another. 

That  man  who  seeks  to  get  rid  of  care,  and  live  easy,  and  throw  off 
all  bm'dens,  and  have  a  good  time  to-day,  without  regard  to  to-morrow ; 
that  man  who  has  no  foresight,  and  no  hindsight  either,  in  his  aim  ; 
that  man  who  has  no  glorious  manhood  that  he  looks  forward  to  ;  that 
man  whose  lile  is  not  beyond  the  river  at  all,  but  is  all  this  side,  "  in 
green  pastures,"  and  "beside  the  stUl  waters" — that  man  God  has  given 
his  name,  and  he  does  not  need  any  other  baptism ! 


74  BEABINO,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE. 

We  are  bom  to  trouble.  Trouble  is  God's  schoolmastei  in  this 
world.  They  that  undertake  to  play  truant  will  be  caught,  if  God  loves 
them  ;  and  if  he  does  "not  love  them  they  will  be  blockheads  and  idiots, 
and  con:e  to  eternal  disgrace  by  and  by  ! 

Manhood  is  the  most  precious  fruit  of  trouble.  There  is  but  one 
tree  in  this  world  that  bears  true,  full  manhood.  You  cannot  go  and 
take  any  tree  and  plant  it  at  hazai'ds,  and  get  spitzenbergs  from  it.  If 
you  want  spitzenbergs,  you  must  plant  a  tree  that  will  bear  spitzen- 
bergs ;  and  if  you  want  russets,  you  must  plant  a  tree  that  bears  rus- 
sets. There  is  one  tree,  and  only  one,  that  bears  true  manhood ;  and 
if  you  want  true  manhood,  you  must  have  that  tree.  And  that  tree  is 
trouble. 

II.  It  is  not  enough  that  men  should  accept  this  badge  of  then- 
Master.  It  is  not  enough  that  men  should  say,  "  I  accept  the  cross ; 
Chi-if^^t  bore  it,  and  I  will  bear  it."  More  than  simply  bearing  the  cross 
is  necessary.  As  I  intimated  at  the  opening  of  this  discom-se,  the  man- 
ner of  bearing  it  is  almost  as  important  as  the  fact  of  bearing  it. 
Christ  did  not  bear  his  cross  crouchingly.  He  did  not  bow  down  and 
prostrate  himself  to  the  ground,  giving  us  the  sign  or  picture  of  utter 
weakness  overcome.  Christ  w^eut  forth  bearing  his  cross — not  di'ag- 
ging  it.  And  we  are  to  bear  our  crosses.  We  are  to  bear  them  in 
such  a  way  that  men,  looking  upon  us,  shall  have  something  to  admuv, 
and  something  to  imitate.  It  is  piteous  to  see  what  work  men  make 
bearing  then  crosses. 

There  are  those  that  are  insti'ucted  in  the  necessity  of  cross-bearing, 
who,  that  they  may  not  be  without  a  cross,  make  up  little  crosses,  and 
are  careful  that  they  are  made  not  only  small,  but  of  light  timber. 
Then  crosses  are  the  hermit's  shell,  like  the  old  pilgrhn's  scollop,  which 
was  worn  on  the  shoulder. 

There  are  many  persons  who  bear  the  cross,  by  taking  something 
that  is  heavy  to  other  people,  but  is  not  heavy  to  them.  And  they 
make  much  account  of  it,  and  speak  often  of  it,  and  have  a  repute  for 
bearing  the  cross,  and  finally  persuade  themselves  that  they  are  really 
doing  it.  Why,  there  are  men  who  live  in  the  indulgence  of  every 
single  want  and  every  single  taste ;  who  are  so  amply  provided  with  boun- 
ties that  they  have  more  than  heart  can  wish  ;  and  who  yet,  feeling  that 
they  must  bear  the  cross,  select  something  that  is  a  cross  to  somebody 
else,  and  bear  it  with  affectation  and  ostentation.  They  carry  a  kmd 
or  fictitious  cross,  hoping  that  thereby  they  will  win  the  promise.  But 
my  brethi-en,  the  cross  which  you  bear  must  be  a  real  cross,  and  not  a 
made-up  one.     A  make-believe  cross  will  not  help  anybody. 

There  are  crosses  which  are  deceitfully  borne.  There  are  many 
persons  who  meet  troubles  and  cares  in  a  shirking  way.  They  have,  if  I 


BWABING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE.  75 

may  so  say,  the  art  of  padding  the  shoulders,  so  that  when  the  cross  is 
laid- upon  them  it  looks  as  though  it  entered  in  and  gu'ded  them,  though 
the  shoulders  having  been  cotton-wooled,  and  it  does  not  hurt  them. 
They  bear  a  cross  which  is  not  very  heavy ;  but  they  have  embellished 
it,  and  wound  it  round  and  round,  so  that  it  does  not  hurt.  There  are 
troubles  which  people  should  experience,  but  which  they  so  handle 
without  any  moral  benefit,  that  though  they  seem  to  other  people  to  be 
troubles,  after  all  when  you  come  to  look  at  them  you  find  that  the 
cross  has  been  dealt  deceitfully  with. 

Oh !  the  insincerity  of  people  !  If  men  were  as  insincere  to  their 
neighbors  as  they  are  to  themselves,  society  would  dissolve  in  U2:)roar  in 
twenty-four  hours.  If  parents  and  children  told  lies  to  each  other  as 
everybody  tells  lies  to  himself;  if  there  were  foisted  up  before  om* 
minds  as  many  fiilse  images  outwardly  as  are  presented  to  it  inwardly, 
we  could  not  stand  it  It  is  not  possible  for  any  man  to  form  a  con- 
ception of  the  self-deceptions  which  we  practice  upon  ourselves.  And 
no  deception  is  more  frequent  than  that  by  which  we  persuade  om-selves 
that  on  the  whole  our  lot  is  one  of  the  hardest  that  ever  was.  Every- 
body wants  people  to  think  that  his  troubles  are  worse  than  anybody 
else's.  Men's  troubles — oh  !  they  are  peculiar  !  I  never  had  anybody 
come  to  me  with  his  troubles  that  he  did  not  think  they  were  pecuhai*. 
You  know  that  peculiar  means  personal.  The  old  saying  in  respect 
to  a  boil,  is  strikingly  true  in  respect  to  all  mental  troubles.  There  is 
'  but  one  place  w^here  a  man  can  bear  a  boil,  and  that  is  on  his  neighbor ! 
The  only  place  where  a  man  can  bear  suflfering  is  on  somebody  else. 
The  love  of  that  deceitfulness  by  which  men  make  themselves  appear 
to  be  sufferers  and  cross-bearers,  is  endless.  The  false  representations 
on  this  subject  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  in  the  eye  of  his  law,  are  with- 
out number. 

Many  crosses  there  are  which  are  dodged,  or  jumped.  Men  Avill 
not  do  anything  which  crosses  the  gi-ain  of  then-  inclination.  They  ai'e 
good,  kind,  obliging,  generous,  when  things  run  with  then*  worldly  in- 
terests and  then-  caprices  ;  but  they  are  unwilling  to  hold  back  a  real 
strong  wish  of  their  own,  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  good  to  themselves, 
or  a  benefaction  to  other  men.  There  are  many  men  that  are  not 
Chi'istians  who  have  a  good  reputation,  who  are  very  popular,  who  ai'e 
very  genial  and  good  natured,  and  who  in  the  neighborhood  and  in  the 
household  are  more  acceptable,  and  are  better  to  live  with,  than  many 
Christians  Mho  are  a  hundi-ed  times  better  than  they  are.  Why,  some 
of  the  hai'dest  people  in  the  world  to  live  with  are  Christians,  and  real 
Chiistians.  Many  Christians  who  ai'e  making  a  gi-eater  efibrt  in  the 
sight  of  God  for  the  future  beauty  of  manhness  than  we  are,  we  do  not 
like,  and  cannot  get  along  with.      On  the  other  hand,  there  ai-e  many 


76  BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVEBBOBNE. 

persons  who,  so  long  as  things  run  with  their  nature,  are  s^i  kind  and 
genial  and  gentle  that  we  say,  "  There  is  no  need  of  their  being  born 
again ;"  and  yet,  the  moment  you  come  to  a  point  where  anything 
runs  across  then*  actual  tendency,  they  revolt  and  rebound  from  the  idea 
of  sacrificing  themselves.  There  is  nothing  on  earth,  and  nothing  in 
heaven,  to  a  self-esteeming  nature,  so  precious  as  self;  and  whatever 
will  build  up,  whatever  will  augment,  whatever  will  ennoble,  self,  in 
their  esteem,  they  cannot  give  up.  Yet,  nobody  can  take  up  his 
cross  without  giving  up  self  And  so,  when  crosses  come  men  fall  back 
upon  their  average  good  nature,  and  upon  then*  reputation ;  and,  though 
they  touch  the  cross,  they  refuse  to  take  it  up  and  carry  it. 

We  take  \x\)  our  crosses,  frequently,  not  for  a  life,  but  for  an  hour ; 
and  yet  our  crosses  should  be  to  us  like  the  armor  of  the  ancient  war- 
rior, that  was  w^orn  all  the  time  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy,  or  like 
clothing  in  modern  society,  that  is  forever  upon  us.  We  ought  to 
carry  our  crosses  till  we  are  accustomed  to  them.  Now  we  deal  with 
our  troubles  (to  change  the  name)  by  fits  and  starts.  When  the  moral 
feelings  swell  in  us,  we  have  a  "  time,"  as  the  saying  is,  with  ^ome 
great  grief  or  self-denial ;  but  it  is  only  for  the  hour,  or  for  the  day  ;  it 
is  for  the  Sunday,  or  the  communion  Sunday ;  it  is  for  certain  con- 
junctions of  tune,  or  days  of  remembrance.  To  take  up  a  great  trouble 
deliberately,  and  feel  that  it  is  heavy,  and  that  it  hurts,  and  feel  a  revul- 
sion from  it,  and  feel  that  you  take  it  up  because  in  this  way  you  follow 
Cluist,  and  bless  your  fellow  men,  and  deliver  yom*self  from  the  thrall 
and  bondage  of  selfishness  and  pride — to  take  up  a  great  trouble  thus, 
and  carry  it  every  day,  and  all  the  time,  is  a  very  difierent  thing. 

We  do  not  need  to  wait  tiU  we  die  before  Ave  see  hell.  I  see  per- 
sons in  hell  every  day. 

A  great  and  pure  and  imaginative  woman  wakes  out  of  the  am-oral 
di-eam  of  life  to  find  that  she  is  aflaanced  to  a  brute  beast,  and  that  the 
things  which  she  is  the  most  sensitive  to,  are  to  him  matters  of  rude 
vulgarity.  She,  yearning,  spiritual,  super-sensuous,  hves  for  that  which 
is  essentially  of  God,  and  finds  herself  chained,  night  and  day,  to  a 
swinish  creature,  that  eats  with  eructating  abundance,  and  diinks,  and 
snores.  And  she  is  his  sei-vant — his  familiar  servant — ransacked  and 
rummaged,  everything  desecrated,  as  if  the  swine  had  entered  the  house 
of  God,  and  were  running  wild  over  the  altar  and  the  most  sacred  pla- 
ces. And  to  live  so  to-day  and  to-moiTOW ;  and  to  see  her  cliildi-en, 
as  they  come  up,  j)erveiled — all  that  is  within  her  resents  it.  And  yet, 
she  is  able  to  say,  "  Lord  Jesus,  it  is  thy  will,  and  I  take  up  this  cross, 
and  I  will  cany  it,  if  it  be  thy  will,  all  my  life  long.  I  will  neither  run 
from  it,  nor  evade  it,  nor  lay  it  down,  if  thou  wilt  only  give  me 
strength."     God's  angels  camp  round  about  such  an  one.     God's  heaven 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE.  77 

above,  if  you  could  only  see  them,  is  full  of  radiant  companions.  De- 
nied at  the  table,  denied  at  the  couch,  denied  in  the  realm  of  friendship, 
everything  that  her  sonl  hungers  for,  God's  bounty  is  but  just  above 
her  head,  and  (lod's  own  sympathy  is  her's,  and  all  God's  angels  in  the 
ah-  are  waiting  for  her.  She  bears  the  cross,  and  continues  to  bear  it. 
God's  saints  are  not  always  those  of  the  calendar.  They  are  often  those 
of  the  household. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  that  we  should  be  ostentatious  in  our  cross- 
beaiing.  There  are  many  persons  who  consent  to  barter  the  matter. 
They  will  bear  the  cross  provided  they  receive  recognition  and  ap- 
plause. This  is  what  I  should  call  ostentatious  cross-bearing.  As 
long  as  you  can  have  friends  to  come  in  and  say,  every  day,  "  Your  lot 
is  a  very  hard  one ;  I  wonder  how  you  can  bear  it,"  you  feel  that  it  is 
worth  one's  while  to  have  a  cross  to  bear,  for  the  sake  of  the  sympathy 
and  praise  that  it  brings.  And  many  persons,  if  you  praise  them 
enough,  and  all  the  time,  saying,  "  Why,  you  do  go  a  great  way  eveiy 
Sunday,  and  you  are  deservmg  of  very  great  credit  for  sitting  down 
with  those  miserable,  unwashed,  unkempt,  ruffian  children,  and  running 
the  risk  of  taking  the  itch  and  the  small-pox,  and  I  know  not  what.  If 
I  did  it  I  should  think  I  was  a  saint" — a  very  polite  way  of  telling 
them  that  you  think  them  to  be  saints  !  As  long  as  persons  can  be 
praised  in  that  way,  and  as  long  as  they  seem  to  have  the  crown  of 
Bonship  while  doing  this  dirty  work,  they  may  perhaps  do  it.  But 
Buppose  nobody  saw  you,  would  you  do  it  then  ?  Suppose  people  did 
not  believe  it  of  you,  when  others  told  it  ?  Nay,  suppose  they  miscon- 
strued it  ?  Nay,  suppose  you  found  that  injurious  stories  were  cii'cu- 
lated  about  you  in  respect  to  that  work  into  which  you  were  putting- 
all  yom-  strength?  Nay,  suppose  you  found  yourself  buffeted  and 
reviled?  Do  you  think  you  would  not  revile  again,  and  that  you 
would  say,  "  Lord  Jesus,  only  be  thou  true  to  me,  and  I  care  not  what 
all  the  world  do.  I  will  follow  thee,  and  I  wUl  take  up  my  cross,  and 
count  my  life  not  dear  to  me.  And  I  will  do  it  for  the  sake  of  those 
who  are  outcast  and  w^ho  need  me.  As  thou  hast  been  a  Savior  to 
me,  so  I  will  be  a  savior  to  them  T  Nay,  can  you  go  night  after  night 
to  Christ,  and  say,  "  Lord,  how  can  I  enough  thank  thee  for  permitting 
me  to  do  it?  Where  is  my  word  of  praise,  that  I  am  accounted 
worthy,  not  only  to  be  called  by  thy  name,  but  to  suffer  for  thy  sake?" 

Tliere  are  many  persons  who,  havmg  their  cross  put  upon  them, 
and  not  being  at  liberty  to  choose  whether  they  will  take  it  or  not, 
di-ag  it  upon  the  ground.  How  many  persons  there  are  that  go  groan- 
ing, and  grumbling,  and  repining,  because  they  cannot  get  away  fi-om 
certain  things ! 

I  never  feel  the  south  wind,  that  I  do  not  smell  flowers.     I  never 


78  BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVEBBOENE. 

feel  the  northeast  wind  that  I  do  not  smell  storms.  There  are  some 
who  are  gardenesque  to  me ;  and  there  are  others  that  remmd  me  of 
winds  that  blow  across  New  Foundland,  and  bring  fogs,  di-eaiy  and 
dismal.  They  live  in  a  perpetual  cold  sizzle  of  disappointment,  disa- 
greeable and  complaining.  Oh  no !  they  do  not  mean  to  give  up ;  they 
will  not  lay  aside  then-  cross ;  but  alas !  they  are  bearing  that  hated 
cross  right  through  the  mud,  along  the  thoroughfare.  The  cross  is  a 
clog  to  them. 

When  I  see  animals  with  a  clog  tied  to  then-  fore  leg,  I  know  that 
they  jump  fences  ;  and  when  I  see  Christians  di'agging  a  clog,  I  know 
that  it  is  a  hinderance  put  on  them  to  keep  them  within  bounds.  And 
when  I  go  and  look  at  it,  I  find  that  it  is  the  cross  of  Christ,  which 
they  have  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  which  is  soiled  by  being  di'agged 
in  the  mud.  It  is  a  hated  thing  to  them,  and  they  cannot  get  away 
from  it.  If  they  could  they  would  gnaw  ofi"  or  cut  the  thong ;  but  as 
they  cannot,  they  still  continue  to  drag  it. 

The  Old  Testament  speaks  of  the  bullock's  being  unaccustomed  to  the 
yoke,  and  resenting  it.  Christ  takes  the  other  side  of  the  figm-e,  and 
says,  "Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me,"  "for  my  yoke  is 
easy."  When  the  bullock  gets  accustomed  to  the  yoke,  his  neck  is 
tough,  and  he  does  not  feel  it ;  and  that  yoke  which  was  such  an  an 
noyance,  and  was  so  hard  to  bear,  becomes  perfectly  easy  to  the  neck. 
And  that  load  which  at  first  he  flew  from,  after  he  is  used  to  drawing 
loads  is  nothing  at  all  to  him.  So  that,  not  only  is  the  yoJce  easy,  but 
the  burden  is  light.  And  men,  when  they  are  cross  yoked,  as  it  were, 
if  they  refuse  the  yoke,  and  are  recreant,  take  it  by  the  hardest ;  but  if 
they  submit  to  it,  and  from  day  to  day  wear  it,  it  becomes,  like  the  yoke 
to  which  the  bullock  is  accustomed,  an  easy,  and  not  a  troublesome  thing. 

There  are  many  persons  (and  this  brings  us  back  to  the  illustration 
with  which  we  opened  the  subject)  who  are  cmshed  by  then-  cross.  I 
was  looking,  last  week,  at  some  pictorial  ilUustrations  of  the  life  of 
Christ,  and  I  was  shocked  at  one  in  which  he  had  fallen  down  his  whole 
length  upon  the  ground.  The  cross  was  bearing  down  upon  him,  and 
he  was  looking  up  with  an  expression  which  I  do  not  care  to  describe. 
I  felt  the  disgi-ace  and  ignominy  of  such  a  representation.  That  was 
not  my  Christ.  My  Christ  was  never  crushed  by  his  cross.  He  went 
forth  bearing  it.  And  although  his  disciples,  when  the  cross  is  laid 
upon  them,  may  for  the  moment  find  that  it  bends  them  down,  yet  he 
that  has  the  cross  lying  on  him  long  enough,  will  get  such  stimulus 
and  strength  that  he  will  straighten  himself  up.  And  every  true  cross- 
bearer  learns  to  caiTy  his  cross  as  if  it  was  an  ornament,  rather  than  a 
burden,  and  finds,  after  a  time,  that  it  carries  him.  It  gives  more 
Btrenirth  to  him  than  he  gives  to  it. 


BEABmO,  BUT  NOT  OVERBOHNE.  79 

And  yet,  bow  many  persons  there  ai'c  who  scarcely  attempt  to  carry 
the  cross.  It  is  thi'own  on  them,  and  they  smk  down  under  it.  And 
that  they,  when  Christ  comes  to  them  to  comfort  them,  should  not  be 
comforted,  and  that  years  should  pass  over  then-  heads,  and  they  should 
still  be  crushed,  and  overborne,  is  strange  and  culpable.  What  is  there 
in  this  world  that  is  worthy  of  such  a  sacrifice  of  manhood — especially 
in  them  that  are  called  by  such  a  Savior,  and  such  a  luminous  example, 
and  that  have  round  about  them  so  many  stimulating  influences? 
Shall  grief  be  forever  a  tyrant  ?  Shall  sorrow  forever  usm-p  the  attri- 
butes of  the  Almighty,  and  stand  domineering  over  men  as  if  the  name 
of  God  were  Sorrow  ?  I  marvel  that  there  are  not  more  victories.  I 
marvel  that  there  is  not  more  glorying  over  the  cross.  I  marvel  that 
there  are  not  more  songs  of  victory  sung.  For  there  is  no  joy  greater 
than  that  of  grief  overcome.  Nothing  is  more  joyous  in  this  world 
than  the  song  of  one  who  has  risen  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  plane. 

I  saw  this  summer,  what  I  have  seen  almost  every  summer,  the  door 
of  a  canary's  cage  left  open ;  and  out  shot  the  canary.  He  knew,  as 
many  men  do  not,  that  it  was  better  to  live  out  of  a  cage  than  in  one ! 
Every  now  and  then  I  heard  him,  all  about  the  house,  descanting  on  his 
liberty.  There  were  snatches  here  and  there,  and  warblings  yonder. 
He  preferred  to  have  one  week's  liberty  and  then  die,  rather  than  have 
a  whole  summer  in  a  cage — to  the  shame  of  that  philosophy  which 
used  to  teach  that  slaves  ought  to  be  content  in  slavery.  Though  the 
people  in  the  house  said  of  the  escaped  bu'd,  "  Where  will  the  poor 
thmg  get  his  food  ?" — sure  enough,  he  had  never  learned  to  provide 
itself  with  food ;  although  they  said,  "  Where  will  he  shelter  himself  in 
the  pelting  rain?" — sure  enough,  he  had  never  learned  how  to  do  that; 
yet  the  bird  gloried  in  his  liberty.  Though  he  was  exposed  to  dangers 
from  which  he  was  protected  before ;  though  his  fi*eedom  would  doubt- 
less bring  him  to  the  cat's  paw,  or  some  form  of  death,  yet  he  rejoiced. 
And  I  said,  I  would  rather  have  a  canaiy  bkd  in  a  tree  one  single  day, 
and  the  singing  of  that  day,  than  to  have  a  canary  bu'd  singmg  in  a 
cage  a  whole  year,  because  he  could  not  help  himself;  because  he  had 
nothing  else  to  do ;  because  he  had  no  hfe  of  conflict ;  because  he  was 
fed  and  watered,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  get  into  a  tub  of  water 
in  the  morning  and  wash  himself,  and  get  out  again,  and  eat,  and  sing, 
and  get  in  again,  and  wash  again,  and  get  out  again,  and  eat,  and  sing 
all  day,  and  all  night  if  the  light  be  burning,  and  hop  up,  first  on  one 
round,  and  then  on  another. 

There  are  hundreds  of  people — grown  men  and  women — who  ai-e 
tiying  to  be  poor,  miserable,  circumscribed  bu'ds  in  a  cage,  with  noth- 
ing to  do  but  hop  about,  and  sing,  and  eat,  and  sing,  and  eat,  and  by 
and  by  die  and  go  to  glory.  They  will  cUe,  and  go  out  like  a  puff-ball, 
rather ! 


80  BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE, 

The  Master,  who  is  the  grand  type  of  manhood — God  in  the  flesh ; 
God  clothed  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ — represents  to  man  true 
manhood ;  and  if  there  be  one  thing  true,  it  is  this :  that  he  never 
flinched  from  trouble.  And  when  it  came  upon  him,  he  did  by  it  what 
the  ocean  does  by  storms — drank   it   up.  All  troubles  seemed  to 

sink  into  the  vastness  of  his  being.  He  bore  our  sorrows  and  our  sine 
They  were  a  part  of  his  cross.  INIultiform,  ever-changing,  and  forever 
continuing,  the  cross  rested  upon  his  heart  as  well  as  upon  his  person  ; 
and  he  bore  it,  and  bore  it  to  the  end.  And  he  turns  and  says  to  us, 
"  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live.  I  have  overcome  ;  ye  shiill  overcome 
Take  up  yom-  cross  daily,  and  follow  me." 

Christian  bretlu-en,  if  we  are  pufled  up  and  conceited  ;  if  we  have 
been  deceiving  ourselves  in  regard  to  the  vu'tues  which  we  possess, 
how  such  a  Une  of  thought  as  this  ought  to  search  us  out  like  an  ofticei-, 
and  bring  us  from  om-  hiding  places  !  How  we  ought  to  take  a  higher 
conception  of  manhood  !  How  we  ought  to  assume  a  nobler  attitude, 
and  say  to  sickness,  "I  am  stronger  than  thou  art ;"  and  to  bankruptcy 
and  revolution  of  fortune,  "I  am  stronger  than  you  are!"  If  miscon- 
ception comes,  and  armed  foes  are  drawn  like  bows  to  send  venomed 
arrows  at  yom*  heart,  say,  "He  bore  it,  and  I  can  bear  it;  he  was  I'e- 
viled,  and  I  can  endure  being  reviled."  Say  to  the  heaven,  "Thou  hast 
not,  in  all  thy  circuit,  any  missiles  which  if  Christ  be  with  me  I  cannot 
bear."  Say  to  the  earth,  "  There  is  not  in  all  thy  treasures  any  mis- 
chief that  I  cannot  bear  if  only  Christ  be  with  me.  I  can  do  all  things, 
Christ  strengthening  me." 

"  Wherefore  Jesus  also,  that  he  might  sanctify  the  people  with  his 
own  blood,  suffered  without  the  gate.  Let  us  go  forth,  therefore,  unto 
him,  bearing  his  reproach.  For  here  have  we  no  continuing  city,  but 
we  seek  one  to  come." 


BEARING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBORNE.  81 

PRAYER    BEFORE  THE  SERMON.* 

"We  bring  to  thee  those  dear  children,  thou  who  art  a  Father,  who  hast  breathed  the 
paternal  feeling  into  us,  and  who  hast  tiiught  us  to  be  children  toward  thee.  We  bring 
them  with  faith  in  thj-  love  and  care.  When  thou  lovest  us,  thou  lovest  all  that  concerns 
us.  When  thou  didst  take  us  into  thine  own  care  and  keeping,  thou  didst  take  our  whole 
estate.  The  earth  is  thine,  and  all  that  belongs  to  it.  Theruugeof  time,  the  economies 
of  life,  and  all  the  intluences  that  bear  upon  us,  are  thine.  "We,  aud  our  households,  and 
all  that  relate  to  them,  are  dear  to  Ihee.  And  we  come  because  we  believe  that  thou  dost 
love  our  little  ones,  and  that  thou  wilt  take  them,  in  thy  fatherly  providence,  aud  care 
for  them. 

And  may  those  that  thus  have  been  brought  into  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  into  the 
midst  of  our  brethren,  become  dear  to  us.  Though  we  may  not  know  them,  may  our 
prayers  find  them  out.  From  day  to  day  may  we  pray  for  one  another.  And  as  we  pray 
for  our  owu  children,  let  us  not  forget,  we  beseech  of  thee,  the  children  of  those  who  are 
united  with  us  in  church  fellowship.  "We  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may  grow  up  in 
honor,  and  truth,  and  fidelity,  and  true  devotion,  aud  fervent  piety;  that  they  may  be 
Christ's  from  the  morning  of  their  lives.  Spare  the  lives  of  these  little  ones.  Grant 
that  they  may  grow  up  to  be  a  comfort  and  a  joy,  and  repay  a  thousand  fold  every  tear 
and  every  care  which  is  expended  for  them. 

"We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  all  the  children  that  have  been  afore- 
time consecrated  here  in  holy  baptism,  may  come  up  in  remembrance  before  thee.  Spe- 
cially bless  them,  we  beseech  of  thee  And  yet,  bless  not  them  alone.  How  many  are 
the  little  wanderers  that  have  no  faithful  parents.  Oh!  look  upon  the  children  every- 
where, and  bless  them.  Turn  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  unto  their  children,  that  they 
may  be  faithful  to  them.  Grant  that  there  may  be  none  in  this  congregation  who  shall 
be  seeking  to  find  their  way  up  to  manhood,  and  shall  find  their  path  darkened  by  the 
shadow  of  their  parents.  Oh!  that  little  children  may  be  so  illumined  by  Chrisl  shining 
upon  them,  that  they  shall  east  their  reflected  light  backward  upon  their  little  ones,  and 
show  them  the  wav   and  make  it  rlain  and  easy. 

O  Lord,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  there  may  be  none  on  whose  consciences  and  hearts 
shall  lie,  in  the  last  dav  the  guilt  of  their  children's  destruction,  to  whom  thou  hast 
commi**ed  these  unspeaKaoIe  treasures:  to  whom  thou  hast  given  the  privilege  of  hold- 
ing in  their  arms  Cnnst  s  nttie  ones.  On  !  grant  that  they  may  not  be  thrown  away  and 
wrecked  by  their  parents.  Give  faith,  give  light,  give  love  and  purity  aud  truth,  to  the 
parents,  that  they  may  impart  them  to  their  children. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  labors  of  thy  servants  in  their  house- 
holds. May  they  be  able  to  make  them  Christian  households  indeed.  Oh!  dear  >avior, 
dwell  with  them,  to  make  everything  light,  aud  everything  easy,  and  everything  beau- 
tiful, and  everything  pure  and  true.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  fulfill  thy  prom- 
ises to  thy  servants  in  their  own  hearts,  and  in  their  own  households.  Come  to  them 
Abide  with  them  evermore. 

And  bless  those  that  labor  in  our  Sabbath-schools  and  Bible-classes,  and  those  that 
go  forth  to  other  schools,  and  seek  to  save  the  outcast  and  wandering.  Grant  that  the 
presence  of  Christ  may  be  with  them.  May  they  walk  as  in  a  white  cloud,  the  grace  of 
God  shining  out  of  it  to  those  to  whom  they  come. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  those  that 
are  growing  up.  "We  thank  thee  that  so  many  are  rising  to  fill  the  places  of  those  that 
have  gone  before;  that  there  are  so  many  young  men  and  young  women  who  are  being 
adorned  with  the  unspeakably  precious  pearls  aud  jewels  of  Christian  grace.  Grant,  we 
pray  thee,  that  they  may  walk  in  and  out  before  men  in  the  covenant  of  love,  faithful, 
laborious,  bearing  their  burdens,  and  performing  the  duty  of  the  day  as  it  is  allotted  to 
them  in  thy  providence. 

And  be  present  with  those  who  are  now  bearing  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day. 
Make  them  strong  to  stand  up  as  pillars  built  on  thee.  And  may  they  be  al)lo  to  be 
built  upon,  strengthened  with  all  strength  in  God. 

*  Immediately  following  the  baptism  of  children. 


82  BEABING,  BUT  NOT  OVERBOBNE. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  be  with  those  who  are  passing  from  the  stage;  whoso 
heads  are  whitened;  who  are  seeing  their  last  years,  if  not  their  last  days.  May  they  be 
able  to  grow  mellow  and  rich  as  their  end  approaches.  May  they  be  able  to  carry  about 
them,  in  their  later  life,  the  glory  and  beauty  of  a  true  faith. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  this  Church, 
and  all  its  labors  of  every  kind;  and  upon  all  the  Churches  of  this  city  and  the  great  city 
adjoining.  Purify  thy  Churches.  Purify  the  community.  Unite  thy  Christian  servants 
in  confidence  and  labors  of  love.  And  grant  that  in  all  the  earth  there  may  be,  in  thy 
Church  universal,  inspired  a  holier  faith  and  zeal  than  ever  existed  before.  And  as  ini- 
quity and  doubt  and  unbelief  come  in  like  a  flood,  oh  Lord  God !  raise  up  again  the  ban- 
ners of  faith,  and  again  call  forth  thy  people  with  a  new  resurrection,  and  lead  thine 
armed  hosts  to  victory. 

We  commend  ourselves  to  thee  through  all  our  lives,  praying  that  thou  wilt  take 
care  of  us  on  the  Sabbath,  and  on  the  week-day,  and  in  the  sanctuaiy.and  at  home,  and 
on  the  sea,  and  everywhere.  And  when  we  walk  in  the  wilderness  of  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  may  we  fear  no  evil.  May  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  comfort  us.  And  all 
the  way  may  we  find  the  signs  and  tokens  of  thy  presence.  And  rejoicing  may  wo 
march  into  the  heavenly  land,  where  we  will  praise  the  Father,  the  bon,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Our  ii"'athor,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  and  the  truth;  and 
may  we  have  ministered  to  us  the  act  of  accepting  and  appropriating  to  our  special  need, 
both  the  food  and  the  medicine  of  thy  truth.  By  thy  Spirit  wilt  thou  guide  us  into  all 
truth;  and  by  thy  providence  wilt  thou  discipline  us.  And  may  thy  Spirit  work  through 
tby  providence,  that  all  things  may  work  together  for  our  good.  May  we  not  count 
those  things  good  which  only  give  pleasure.  May  wo  know  that  good  lies  in  pain,  in 
suffering,  in  patience,  in  self-denial.  May  we  follow  the  steps  of  Him  who  sweat  drops 
of  blood.  May  we  follow  the  Christ  who  bore  his  cross,  and  could  bear  it,  to  the  end, 
enduring  that  wo  might  be  saved.  And  at  last,  when  we  have  passed  through  the  disci- 
pline of  this  lower  school,  bring  us  into  the  liberty  of  the  upper  and  boundless  realm, 
wheie  we  will  praise  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,    Amen,, 


VI. 

The  Holy  Spirit, 


INVOCATION. 

Grant  unto  us,  in  the  very  beginning  of  our  service  this  morning,  O  thou 
blessed  Father !  that  mercy  and  grace  in  which  alone  our  souls  can  live. 
We  have  sought  thee,  and  often  in  times  past  found  thee.  Come  again !  But 
already  thou  art  here.  Thee  have  we  seen  flaming  in  the  heaven ;  thee  in 
all  the  air;  thee  in  the  resurrection  by  which  all  sweet  and  pleasant  thing? 
are  coming  forth  again.  Thou  dost  come  for  us ;  and  it  was  thy  voice  that 
we  heard  bringing  us  hither.  And  before  we  were  here,  thou  didst  wait,  O 
thou  that  art  the  Host  and  Benefactor !  Grant  that  we  may  have  grace 
given  us  to  behold  thee  with  open  arms,  welcoming  every  needy  soul,  and 
saying,  "  According  to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you."  Give  us,  then,  this  living 
faith,  that  we  may  partake  of  the  joy  of  all  the  sanctifying  influence  which 
belongs  to  thine  house  upon  this  day.    We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


THE  HOLY  SPIPiIT. 


/J 


"And  wlien  Paul  hail  laid  his  hands  upon  them,  tho  Holy  Ghost  came  on  them:  and  they 
spake  with  tongues,  and  prophesied." — Acts  XIX.  6. 


This  is  a  history  developing  one  of  the  higher  ranges  of  trnth, 
which  is  i^eciiliar  to  the  New  Testament,  and  Avhich  is  its  most  precious 
feature. 

I  often  think  that  the  New  Testament  is  like  a  mansion  built  on 
high  ground,  in  a  region  of  magnificent  scenery,  whose  windows  open 
on  every  side  upon  -views  of  transcendent  interest.  Although  the  man- 
sion itself  is  comfortably  furnished  within,  and  pleasing,  yet  memorable 
is  it  chiefly  for  what  one  sees  outside  of  it,  and  tlu'ough  its  windows. 

The  New  Testament  is  a  book  full  of  precepts  of  wisdom  for  this  life ; 
it  is  full  of  secular  wisdom;  it  has  in  it  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is, 
and  of  that  which  is  to  come;  the  mansion  is  handsomely  furnished 
within:  but  its  chief  merits,  its  peculiar  characteristics,  are  the  openings 
which  it  makes  into  the  spu'itual  and  invisible  world.  The  windows 
of  the  New  Testament  are  more  important  than  the  furnitm-e  that  is 
within  it. 

It  is  pi'ecisely  at  this  point,  however,  that  modern  rationalism  and 
all  that  skepticism  which  flows  from  it  attempt  to  do  away  with  that 
which  is  the  very  glory  of  the  whole — namely,  its  supersensuousness, 
and  its  revelation  of  spiritual  divine  truth.  By  rationalism  I  mean 
the  spuit  of  the  intellect,  inspired  by  the  material  world  and  human 
society,  and  by  nothing  else.  The  highest  range  of  the  intellect,  is 
this  same  intellect  acting  according  to  its  own  laws,  but  under  the 
stimulus  of  the  divine  mind. 

Modern  scientific  investigations,  as  far  as  they  have  gone,  con- 
fine themselves  to  this  world,  as  to  a  husk,  or  shell.  We  hold  that  the 
kernel  of  tnUh  is  its  spiritual  element.  It  is  said,  or  thought,  in  re- 
gard to  this,  that  if  it  has  any  existence,  science  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it.     It  is  certain  that  science  has  had  very  little  to  do  with  it. 

Sunday  ilouxiNG,  Oct.  17,  18C9.— Lesson  :  Acts  n,  1-40.  Hnixs  (Plymouth  CoUection): 
Nos.  1G2,  597,  755. 


84  THE  nOLY  SPIRIT. 

The  human  uuderstanding  excited  through  the  senses  by  secxilar, 
mundane  truth  alone,  is  rationalistic.  It  becomes  spiritualistic,  and 
truly  manly,  by  just  so  much  as,  beyond  lower  and  material  excitements, 
it  acts  under  the  influence  of  a  higher  divine  stimulus. 

These  rationalists  (I  speak  not  of  them  contemptuously ;  but  be- 
cause there  must  be  some  term  to  designate  them  by,  and  as  this  is  that 
which  they  have  selected  for  themselves,  I  employ  it)  go  into  the  New 
Testament,  too  frequently,  as  we  might  imagine  a  set  of  jolly,  roister- 
ing colliers,  just  out  of  the  murky  mines,  to  go  into  the  aforesaid  man- 
sion— a  great  house,  comely,  and  well  furnished,  but  principally  re- 
markable for  its  elevation,  and  for  the  magnificence  of  the  prospects  on 
every  side  to  be  seen  out  of  its  windows.  These  jolly  blades,  just  out 
of  the  dirt,  are  to  have  a  good  time.  And,  taking  possession  of  the 
mansion,  they  first  bring  up  everything  they  can  find  in  the  cellar ;  and 
then  they  empty  everything  that  is  good  in  the  kitchen ;  and  then  they 
ransack  the  cupboards  and  closets  for  all  manner  of  delicacies,  and 
spread  the  royal  board  bounteously.  There  are  pictures  all  around  the 
room;  but  "These  old  coveys  are  of  no  account  to  us,"  they  say.  It 
is  very  much  as  some  men  speak  of  the  old  patriarchs  and  prophets 
of  the  Bible,  whom  they  think  to  be  certain  monsters,  half-way  historic. 
They  laugh  them  to  scorn.  And  so  our  revelers,  in  this  imagined 
mansion,  set  aside  all  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  all  the  books  in  the 
library.  And  of  the  windows  they  say,  "Shut  them  down  !"  Through 
one  is  seen  a  long  valley  far  down  along  the  river  course,  with  every 
line  of  grace  and  every  tint  of  beauty  ;  and  they  say,  "  Shut  doAvn  that 
window !  There  is  an  ugly  di-aft  from  it."  Through  the  next  window 
may  be  seisn  the  sea,  into  which  the  river  runs,  wide,  out-spread,  and 
everlasting  in  its  music.  "Shut  down  that  window,  and  curtain  it!" 
say  they  ;  "we  want  none  of  that."  And  so  the  mountain  window,  and 
the  champaign  window,  one  after  the  other,  are  shut  down.  And  now 
they  can  eat  and  drink  and  have  a  good  time !  What  would  you 
think  of  the  refinement  of  such  gentlemen  ? 

Rationalists  go  into  the  New  Testament,  and  here  are  miracles ;  and 
they  say,  "Slmt  down  that  window!"  Here  are  the  gifts  that  came  by 
the  out-i)Ouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  they  say,  "Shut  down  that 
window!"  Here  are  visions,  and  there  are  angels;  and  they  say, 
"Shut  down  both  those  windows !"  Here  is  the  doctrine  of  the  inspi- 
ration of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  they  say,  "  Shut  down  that  ridiculous 
window !"  Here  is  the  truth  of  immortality  ;  and  they  say,  "Put  a  cur- 
tain over  it !  shut  it  up !  What  we  want  is  a  rational  Bible."  And  to 
eat,  di-ink  and  be  clothed  withal — that  is  their  idea  of  rationality. 
Every  point  in  the  Bible  that  enlarges  the  possible  sphere  of  human  life; 
every  point  in  the  New  Testament  that  leads  a  man  to  have  a  broader 


TEE  EOL  Y  SPIRIT.  8  5 

conception  of  duty,  loftier  aspii-ation,  and  a  hold  upon  things  wliicli 
are  beyond  the  sensuous  sight ;  all  those  great  truths  that  make  God 
near,  eminent  and  powerful — of  these  they  say,  "They  are  probably 
superstitions,  and  doubtful  anyhow;  shut  down  the  window!"  And 
so,  when  they  have  got  through  with  the  New  Testament,  it  is  like  a 
jail,  and  they  are  like  prisoners. 

I  like  these  brave  rationalists  !  They  are  the  men  that  say,  "  Oh  ! 
give  us  the  precepts  of  the  New  Testament ;  but  as  to  the  machmery 
of  religion,"  then-  thought  is,  "  it  may  be  all  right,  or  it  may  not." 
They  are  precisely  like  a  man  who  says,  "  Give  me  aj^ples ;  but  I  hate 
apple-trees."  As  though  he  could  get  fruit  without  anything  for  it  to 
grow  on !  They  are  like  a  man  who  says,  "  I  believe  in  tallow,  but 
not  in  the  flame  that  is  on  the  top  of  the  candle."  What  is  a  candle 
worth  that  is  not  lit,  and  where  no  account  is  made  of  the  flame  ?  These 
men  pretend  to  believe  in  the  fruit  of  the  New  Testament — in  its  pre- 
cepts, its  morality,  its  beautiful  examples,  as  they  are  called ;  but  that 
very  power,  that  very  machinery,  that  very  maiTOW,  out  of  which  all 
these  things  come,  they  officiously  set  aside. 

I  believe  m  them  most  thoi'oughly.  I  would  not  spend  my  life  in 
interpreting  the  New  Testament,  and  preaching  from  it,  if  I  thought  it 
was  nothing  but  a  book  of  common  maxims  and  mere  human  secular 
morals. 

Om'  text  brings  to  view  a  memorable  truth  of  transcendent  value — 
one  of  the  higher  truths ;  namely,  the  existence  of  a  universal  divine 
Spirit,  in  its  special  relation  to  the  human  understanding  and  the  hu- 
man soul.  We  are  too  apt  to  discuss  the  question  of  eternity  as  a 
question  of  divinity ;  and  we  are  always  stumbling  at  that.  We  do 
not  know  enough  to  frame  the  logic  of  eternity.  If  we  accept  it  at  all, 
w^e  must  accept  it  purely  and  merely  as  a  fact,  and  never  as  a  philoso- 
phy. We  have  no  means  of  framing  a  philosophy  on  a  cu'cuit  so 
Avide  and  vast  as  that.  It  is  ten  thousand  times  more  important  that 
we  should  understand  the  questions  of  the  divine  nature  in  then*  relar 
tions  to  us,  in  then'  relations  to  our  intercom-se  with  each  other,  and  in 
then"  relations  to  our  education  in  spiritual  things,  than  in  their  relations 
to  the  future  and  universal  moral  government  of  God. 

It  is  this  that  I  shall  attempt  to  speak  of,  in  familiar  language,  this 
morning — the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  this 
which  is  revealed  in  the  passage  which  I  have  selected  for  my  text.  I 
wUl  read  the  context  : 

"It  camo  to  pass  ■while  Apolloswas  at  Corinth,  Paul  having  passed  through  the 
upper  coasts  of  Ephesus;  and  finding  certain  disciples,  he  said  unto  thom,  Have  ye  re- 
ceived the  Holy  Ghost  since  yo  believed?  And  they  said  unto  him.  Wo  have  not  so 
much  as  heard  whether  there  ho  any  Holy  Ghost." 

It  brings  to  mmd  the  case  of  the  disciples  and  the  apostles  under 


S  3  THE  HOL  7  SPIRIT. 

the  coiumand  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Chi'ist  himself,  as  recorded  iu  the  24th 

of  Luke : 

*•  And  behold,  I  sent  the  promise  of  my  Father  upon  you;  but  tarry  ye  in  the  city  of 
Jerusalem,  until  ye  bo  endued  with  power  from  on  high.' 

The  disciples,  at  the  death  of  Christ,  had  theu-  natural  reason ;  they 
had  all  the  knowledge  which  had  been  reaped  through  three  year's 
residence  with  Chiist ;  but  they  needed  something  besides ;  they  needed 
something  to  stk  up,  enlarge  and  empower  their  natural  faculties ;  and 
they  were  told  to  wait  for  that  something  until  it  descended  upon  them 
in  Jerusalem.  What  that  waiting  was  for  is  to  be  seen  clearly  in  the 
account  which  I  have  read  this  morning,  of  the  scenes  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost.  That  day  naturally  has  made  its  impression  upon  men 
through  theu-  senses.  They  have  been  accustomed  to  regard  it  with 
great  interest  on  account  of  the  results  which  it  produced.  But  to  me, 
the  causes  of  those  results  are  far  more  important  matters  of  conside- 
ration. 

It  is  the  lapse  of  the  divine  sphit  that  gives  character  to  the  trans- 
actions of  that  day,  and  to  the  whole  imperial  history.  For  it  seems 
that  at  a  certain  point,  at  a  given  ste^)  of  preparation,  not  only  was 
there  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  an  invisible  influence,  but  it 
pleased  God  to  accomjmny  it  with  outward  signs  or  insignia.  Forked 
flames,  which  they  likened  to  tongues  of  fire,  seemed  to  sit  down  upon 
the  head  of  every  one  of  the  apostles.  And  the  moment  that  took 
place,  they  were  filled  with  a  new,  unaccustomed  and  extraordinary 
power.  They  were  endowed  with  the  ability  to  speak  in  languages 
which  they  never  before  had  spoken  in.  They  were  endowed  Avith 
wisdom  that  they  never  had  before.  And  all  the  knowledge  they  had 
seems  to  have  been  infused,  and  to  have  become  crystalline  in  them ; 
and  they  showed  the  evidences  of  a  certain  imparted  omnipotence. 

When  this  began  to  take  place,  the  men  who  believed  in  only  what 
they  could  see  and  handle,  accounted  for  it  by  saying  that  the  men 
were  di-unk.  But  Peter  said,  "  No,  it  is  only  nine  o'clock  ;  and  men  do 
not  get  di-unk  as  early  as  that."  They  had  not  the  benefit  of  our  mod- 
ern inventions,  or  they  might  have  got  drunk  a  great  deal  earlier  than 
that ;  but  it  took  time  to  become  intoxicated  by  drinking  oriental 
wines.  Men  were  not  accustomed  to  get  drunk  at  so  early  an  hour  in 
the  day,  Peter  argued ;  and  the  argument  was  conclusive  to  them. 
They  saw  that  these  phenomena  could  not  be  accounted  for  on  the 
gi-ound  of  drunkenness.  "This,"  says  Peter,  "is  that  which  was 
prophesied.  All  your  Old  Testament  Scriptures,  in  which  you  be- 
lieve, have  been  decl;u-ing  that  the  time  should  come  when  there  should 
be  a  revelation  of  extraordinary  divine  power ;  that  the  time  should 
come  when  the  human  mind  should  be  inspu-ed  to  rise  up  into  a  lati- 


TEE  HOLY  SPIRIT.  87 

{Uvle  but  little  known  before.  Here  and  there  a  prophet  lias  ariseu 
lurctotbre  ;  but  l)\-an(l-by  prophesying  shall  be  general,  and  a  part  of 
the  universal  economy.  On  your  sons  and  your  handmaidens  (for  in 
the  Jewish  economy  men  and  women  always  ranked  alike.  Of  all 
oriental  nations,  they,  almost  alone,  saw  but  little  distinction  between 
the  sexes — and  none  when  either  the  one  or  the  other  were  called  of 
God  and  endowed  to  do  any  work  for  the  welfare  of  society,  or  man- 
kind) : — on  your  sons  and  handmaidens  this  Spuit  shall  descend.  So  says 
your  ])rophet  Joel."  Peter  quoted  that ;  and  then  said,  "Tliis  is  the 
fultillment  of  that  declaration."  It  is  the  disclosure,  in  the  new  dis- 
pensation of  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  divine  influence  universal — ^an  inspi- 
ration that  shall  lift  the  whole  human  soul  up  into  a  higher  range  of 
thought,  of  life  and  of  power. 

I.  The  divine  Being  is  not  merely  a  person,  superlative,  infinite, 
who  sits  enshi'iued,  and,  as  it  were,  hidden  in  the  centre  of  his  vast  do- 
main. "VVe  are  taught  that  there  is  an  effluence  of  spirit-power,  and 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  pervades  the  universe.  It  is  to  the  personality  of 
God  what  the  light  and  heat  of  the  sun  ai-e  to  the  sun  itself  For,  ,y'' 
though  the  sun  is  in  a  definite  sphere  and  position,  and  has  its  own 
globular  mass,  yet  it  is  felt  through  mjTiads  and  myriads  of  leagues  of 
space,  and  is  therefore  present  by  its  eifects  and  power.  And  though 
God  is  not  present,  and  heaven  is  the  place  where  he  dwells,  yet  the 
divine  influence  pervades  the  universe.  The  mental  power,  the 
thought  power,  the  spuit  power,  of  the  divine  mind  impletes  the  ra- 
tional universe. 

This  divine  and  universal  effluence  is  the  peculiar  element  in  which 
the  soul  of  man  was  destined  to  live,  and  find  its  inspnation,  and  its 
true  food.  For  although  we  find  man  fii-st  in  this  world,  and  he  re- 
ceives his  fii'st  food  here  because  he  begins  at  a  low  point,  yet  as  he 
develops,  and  goes  up  step  by  step,  higher  fiiculties,  requiring  a  higher 
kind  of  stimulus  or  food,  are  developed,  and  he  reaches  manhood  at 
that  point  in  which  he  begins  to  act  from  the  influences  that  are  divine 
and  spiritual,  and  that  flow  du-ectly  from  God.  Up  to  that  point  he 
lives  as  an  animal,  and  beyond  that  point  as  a  man. 

This  divine  Spuit ;  or,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  difliisive  mind  of  God 
•which  pervades  all  the  realms  of  intelligent  beings,  and  which  is  the 
atmosphere  that  the  soul  is  to  breathe — the  medium  of  its  light,  the 
stimulus  of  its  life — acts  in  the  first  place  as  a  general  excitement.     It 
.  develops  the  whole  nature  of  a  man  by  rousing  it  to  life.     We  ai"e  fa- 
miliar with  the  gradations  of  excitement. 

We  can  gain  some  analogies  from  our  ordinaiy  experience.  We 
are  so  made  that  our  first  experience  of  excitement  comes  fi-om  physi- 
cal or  material  excitements.      Food,  drink,  heat,  cold,  agents  of  vai'i- 


8  8  THE  EOL  T  SPIRIT. 

ous  kinds,  on  being  applied  to  the  body,  or  taken  within  it,  develop 
nervous  excitement.  This  nervous  excitement  go£s  on  past  mere  sen- 
sational excitement,  and  becomes  an  excitement  of  the  brain — of  its 
passions,  its  reason  and  its  affections.  It  is  the  lowest  form  of  excite- 
ment. We  very  soon  become  famiUar  with  the  fact  that  men  may  be 
excited  by  other  than  mere  physical  stimuli.  When  men  come  to  live 
one  with  another,  they  are  excited.  They  are  stimulated  by  each  oth- 
ers' presence.  We  may  call  it  "  mesmerism,"  or  "  magnetism,"  or  what- 
ever we  choose  ;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  that  men  excite  each  other  in 
a  general  way.  We  know  that  men  are  powerfully  excited  by  the  af- 
fections which  they  exercise,  and  by  the  evidences  of  reason,  and  by 
reasonings.  In  other  words,  while  we  begin  life  under  the  mfluence  of 
mere  physical  stimulants,  we  soon  rise  to  a  point  Avhere  excitements 
are  social  and  moral.  They  are  not  ^  physical  stimulants  a])plied  to  a 
physical  body,  but  they  are  iuAdsible  moral  influences  which  act  as 
excitements,  and  wake  up  the  mind  and  the  affections. 

But  still  higher  than  this,  as  men  develop,  they  find  that  they  come 
to  a  region  where  there  are  stimulants  in  the  form  of  aesthetic  ideas  and 
moral  sentiments.  Here  is  where  artists  live.  Here  is  where  philoso- 
phers live.  Here  is  where  geniuses  live.  The  excitement  of  these 
men's  lives  is  not  from  what  they  eat  and  di'ink,  excejjt  in  a  lower  way ; 
nor  is  it  from  social  influences-  They  have  risen  so  high  that  they  have 
come  under  the  stimulus  of  ideas  and  finer  forms  of  beauty  and  senti- 
ment. 

By  looking  at  this  way  in  which  excitements  come  in  our  actual  ex- 
perience, we  are  prepared  beforehand  for  the  teaching  in  the  word  of 
God,  that  above  all  sensuous  excitements,  and  above  all  merely  secular 
excitements,  there  is  an  imperial,  insensuous  and  divine  influence  which 
is  universally  pr^gent,  and  eminently  stimulating,  and  to  which  every 
human  being  may  have  access.  It  is  soul-food.  It  is  heart-life.  It  is 
the  light  and  the  life  of  the  world.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Ghost — namely,  that  as  matter  excites  men,  and  men  excite  men,  in  the 
lower  ranges,  so  man,  lifted  up  far  enough,  meets  God  ;  and  that  the 
ofiice  of  the  divine  nature  is  to  pom*  roimd  about  men  the  natural  stim- 
ulation and  developing  power  which  there  is  in  the  divine  Being.  As 
the  sun  rains  light,  so  God's  soul  rains  power  quite  uidependent  of 
volition.  There  is  a  divine  and  special  volitional  influence,  a  divine  and 
celestial  ether,  sent  forth,  in  which  men  find  themselves  awake,  and 
aroused,  and  prepared  to  develop,  in  ways  of  wliich  I  shall  sj^eak. 

II.  What  is  the  result  of  this  supernatural  divine  stimulus  upon 
men's  nature  ?  It  seems  to  act  upon  the  sen  nous  and  physical  nature 
only  indkectly,  by  acting  upon  the  higher  life.  It  is  in  general  an 
awakening  of  the  faculties.      It  fires  men.      It  develops  then-  latent 


THE  IIOL  Y  SPIRIT.  89 

forces.  We  go  all  our  life-long  with  ii-on  in  the  soil  under  our  feet, 
and  do  not  know  that  it  is  hidden  there  ;  and  we  go  all  our  life  long 
carrying  gold  in  the  mountains  of  oui-  souls,  without  knowing  that  it  is 
there.  We  cai'ry  in  us  ranges  of  2>ower  that  we  know  very  Uttle  of. 
And  the  divine  Spuit,  in  so  far  as  it  acts  upon  tlie  human  soul,  or  is 
permitted  to  awaken  it,  develops  its  latent  forces.  It  carries  forward 
a  man's  nature,  opening  in  it,  often,  faculties  which  have  been  absolute- 
ly dormant.  There  are  many  men  who  have  eyes  that  they  never  o])en- 
ed,  and  that  are  capable  of  seeing  truths  which  they  never  have  seen. 
They  are  therefore  called  blind.  And  they  begin  to  see  only  when  the 
divine  Spirit  acts  upon  their  souls  ;  because  there  are  certain  faculties 
which  will  not  act  except  when  they  are  brought  under  the  divine  influ- 
ence. Then  it  is  that  those  faculties  begin  life,  as  it  were.  There  are 
whole  ranges  of  ficulties  which  have  been  developed  only  on  the  earth 
side.  Men  have  a  spiritual  intuition  ;  but  that  has  never  been  de- 
veloped. 

It  is,  however,  still  beyond  this  that,  looking  at  it  in  a  jourely  psy- 
chological point  of  view,  the  divine  Spu'it  seems  to  act  on  the  human 
mind,  by  imparting  to  it  fineness  of  susceptibility  and  moral  sympathy, 
by  which  the  soul  is  brought  into  immediate  conscious  and  personal 
communion  with  God,  and  from  which  the  most  illustrious  results  of 
man's  history  are  deduced. 

Here,  then,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  sunple  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
stated  in  brief — namely,  that  it  is  the  influence  of  the  divine  mind,  of 
the  whole  being  of  God,  as  it  were,  sent  down  into  the  realm  of  ra- 
tional creatures,  hovering  above  them  as  a  stimulating  atmosphei'c,  and 
as  food  for  the  soul ;  and  that  when  men  rise  mto  this  atmosphere  which 
is  the  nature  of  God  difiiised  in  the  Avorld,  they  come  to  a  liigher  con- 
dition of  faculties.  They  find  faculties  opened  in  them  which  they 
never  before  used.  They  receive  in  all  their  higher  natm-e  a  fineness, 
an  intuitional  power,  a  moral  perceptive  force,  which  they  never  had 
before.  They  find,  in  short,  that  whereas  then-  heart  was  like  a  tree 
in  the  far  north,  which,  although  it  could  blossom  a  little  could  never 
ripen  its  fruit,  because  the  summer  was  so  short,  now  then-  heart  is 
like  that  same  tree  can-ied  doAVTi  toward  the  equator,  where  it  brings  its 
fruit  to  ripeness.  The  human  soul  ministered  to  by  })hysical  influences, 
gets  up  a  certain  way ;  ministered  to  by  social  influences  it  gets  up 
another  certain  Avay ;  ministered  to  by  the  higher  forms  of  human  in- 
telhgence,  it  gets  up  still  further  ;  ministered  to  by  philosophy  and  he- 
roism it  rises  to  a  yet  gi-eater  height ;  and  higher  than  all  of  them, 
mightier  than  all  of  them,  is  the  divine  efiluence. 

Here  comes  the  direct  intercourse  of  man's  heart  with  the  great  out- 
lying, world-filling  soul  of  God.      And  the  moment  the  soul  of  man 


y  0  TEE  EOLT  SPIRIT. 

coines  under  tlie  real  ]30"wer  of  this  divine  natui'e,  it  is  bom  again  to 
itself.  That  is  to  say,  all  its  powers  have  a  new  inspiration.  As  a 
man  taking  Avine  never  knows  how  strong  he  is  till  he  becomes  al- 
most di-unk  ;  as  a  man  in  battle  has  the  power  of  ten  men  out  of  bat- 
tle ;  so  a  man,  when  his  soul  comes  under  this  divine  mfluence,  which 
the  ancients  used  to  caU  intoxicatioti,  receives  such  unexpected  acces- 
sions of  power,  that  he  seems  to  himself  to  be  equal  to  ten  men.  And 
there  are  phenomena  connected  with  it  of  which  I  shall  speak  in  the  sequel. 
*  There  are  several  truths  of  great  importance  which  will  now  seem 
more  plain  after  this  brief  exposition. 

1.  The  remarkable  phenomena  of  the  apostolic  age,  which  have 
been  reproduced  in  every  age  since,  and  which  are  now  being  develop- 
ed here  and  there  in  abnormal  and  kregular  ways  m  the  lower  sjihere 
— namely,  visions,  second-sight,  speaking  with  tongues,  wliat  is  called 
"  annual  magnetism,"  various  intuitional  powers — are  such  as  might  be 
expected.  We  see  society  breaking  out,  every  now  and  then,  with  de- 
velopments of  mentality  which  are  unlike  what  are  said  to  be  "  the  or- 
dhiary  sober,  sound,  scientific  developments  of  mind."  These  thmgs, 
in  the  forms  of  witchcraft,  incantation,  sorcery  and  possession,  have  ap- 
peared and  reappeared  in  every  age  of  the  world ;  and  there  never  was 
a  tune  when  they  were  so  prevalent  as  in  the  time  of  om-  Master, 

As  you  know,  once  in  so  many  years,  m  the  revolution  of  the  stellar 
bodies,  we  come  to  a  great  meteoric  year,  m  which  it  seems  as  though 
the  heavens  rained  meteors  night  and  day.  And  so  in  the  revolution 
of  moral  elements,  there  seem  to  have  come  points  of  time  in  which 
there  were  devils  rained  down  in  showers,  and  men  were  possessed. 
Angels,  also,  seemed  to  be  rained  down  from  above.  The  whole  air 
seemed  full  of  sentient  and  super-sensuous  intelligences,  which  were 
rained  from  all  directions. 

Now,  we  read  in  the  New  Testament  Paul's  dii-ections  to  men  who 
had  no  gifts.  Some  men  had  the  gift  of  tongues  ;  some  the  gift  of 
mhacles  ;  some  one  thing,  and  some  another.  All  sorts  of  gifts  broke 
out  under  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  And  when  the  Apostles  found 
a  man  that  was  without  any  such  power,  they  said  to  him,  "  Why  ! 
what  are  you  ?  A  Christian,  and  cannot  do  anything  ?  Have  not  you 
received  the  Holy  Ghost  f  In  the  case  to  which  reference  has  ah-eady 
been  made,  the  men  said,  "  What  is  the  Holy  Ghost  f  They  seemed 
to  think  that  it  must  be  a  garment  to  wear,  or  something  to  eat  and 
drink.  It  was  all  that,  only  it  was  something  for  the  soul  to  eat  and 
drink  and  put  on.  And  Paul  said,  "  What  were  you  baptised  to,  that 
you  have  not  this  gift  V  And  after  they  had  expressed  then-  ignorance 
of  llie  Holy  Ghost,  he  said,  "Well,  take  Christ's  baptism."  And  they 
took  Christ's  baptism  ;  and  that  moment  they  flamed  out. 


THE  EOL  T  SPIRIT.  9  \ 

Now  what  Wcas  it?  They  were  ilhimined  by  the  divine  touch. 
All !  that  tlie  laying  on  of  hands  since  then  could  have  been  followed 
by  such  results !  It  has  been  like  laying  hands  on  a  \\\in\)  of  lead 
which  remained  lead  when  they  were  taken  off.  But  when  Paul  laid 
his  hands  on  men,  the  Holy  Ghost  came  upon  them,  and  they  that  be- 
fore could  not  speak,  spoke  in  forty  languages ;  and  tliey  that  before 
could  do  nothing  had  the  power  of  miracles  in  then-  hands. 

Men  say,  "  Oh !  that  belonged  to  the  apostolic  age ;"  but  there  have 
been  sectaries  in  every  succeeding  period  Avho  seemed  to  have  some 
such  lower  form  of  development.  There  is  something  of  the  kind  in 
this  age.  Just  now  human  society  is  full  of  it.  It  does  not  seem  to 
me  that  these  things  are  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  but  they  do  seem 
to  show  that  there  is  a  power  of  development  in  the  human  heart,  in  a 
given  du-ection,  by  which  it  can  do  thuigs  far  beyond  what  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  supjjose. 

It  was  in  this  direction  that  the  early  disciples  were  developed. 
They  had  powers  which  remained  to  them,  but  which  for  want  of  faith  i 
did  not  go  on  to  others.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  miracles  have 
ceased  ;  though  I  think  the  object  for  which  they  were  instituted  has 
in  a  great  measure,  if  not  quite,  passed  away.  I  regard  them  merely 
as  means  of  bringing  convictions  thi'ough  the  sense  of  wonder  before 
men  are  strong  enough  to  reason.  They  were  therefore  adapted  to 
the  childhood  of  the  race.  But  under  appropriate  cu'cumstances  I 
know  not  why  they  may  not  be  wi'ought  yet.  I  see  nothing  in  the 
human  mind,  and  nothing  in  the  economy  of  God  in  nature,  and  no- 
thing in  science,  when  science  takes  in  the  best  part  of  the  created 
universe,  to  prevent  om-  believing  that  there  are  miracles  to-day — to 
prevent  our  believing  that  men  have  visions,  and  see  angels  and  infer 
nal  spirits.  I  see  no  reason  why  it  belongs  to  the  human  mind  to  see 
these  things  by-and-by.  I  believe  that  the  human  imderstanding  will 
be  so  vitalized  by  this  in-dwelling  Spirit  of  God,  that  its  faculties  will 
be  so  stimulated  and  sjjiritualized,  that  the  range  througli  which  men 
will  think  and  feel  will  be  removed  for  beyond  the  mere  bound  of 
matter.  But  at  present  these  various  developments  that  are  constantly 
breaking  out  show  what  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  mind  to  do  or  to  be. 
It  does  not  show  that  they  are  inspu-ed  again. 

In  the  early  ages,  when  these  developments  took  place  under  the 
stimulating  influence  of  the  divine  Spirit,  they  took  place,  as  I  have 
already  intimated,  precisely  as  we  should  liave  expected.  "Wlien  a 
cliild  begins  to  come  out  of  its  little  animalhood  into  its  true  sclfliood, 
what  does  it  do?  Does  it  come  out  suddenly,  like  an  insect  that  was 
a  chrysalis  yesterday,  and  is  a  2)erfect  butterfly  to-day?  No,  children 
do  not  burst  forth  in  that  way.     They  come  out  rude,  half-fashioned. 


92  THE  HOLT  SPIRIT. 

running  along  the  line  of  development,  tottling,  prattling,  making  cu- 
rious mistakes,  glancing  into  manhood  here,  and  stumbling  back  into 
animalhood  there.  And  when  the  human  mind  was  born  it  did  the 
same  thing.  It  ran  along  a  line  of  development  jirecisely  .analagous  to 
that  which  I  have  just  described.  From  the  natm-al  it  flamed  up  into 
the  supernatm-al,  and  came  to  its  second  childhood.  And  when  in  the 
apostolic  age,  it  came  under  the  more  dii-ect  influence  of  the  divine 
natm-e,  it  began  to  take  a  higher  range,  and  a  firmer  hold  of  mvisible 
things.  It  acted  with  just  that  kregularity  which  we  should  have  ex- 
pected, and  which  we  see  to-day.  I  do  not  suppose  it  to  be  of  God  in 
any  other  sense  than  that  in  which  everything  is  of  God ;  b^^t  it  shows  on 
which  side  the  soul  is  going  to  break  out  by-and-by,  and  take  its  flight. 
Its  phenomena  are  abnormal — that  is,  unusual — that  is,  UTegular — be- 
cause there  is  no  line  of  experience  and  no  philosophy  to  guide  them. 

2.  The  experience  of  a  soul  which  is  lifted  up  into  this  atmos- 
phere of  the  Holy  Spirit,  so  as  to  be  brought  perfectly  under  the  divine 
influence,  interprets  that  figure  of  marriage  which  pervades  the  whole 
Bible.  The  rapture  of  true  love  in  souls  on  earth  at  first  findmg  them- 
selves each  other's;  the  glory  and  pride  of  finding  one's  self  loved;  the 
conscious  swelling  in  us  of  another  life  mightier  than  we  knew  before 
being  loved — this  is  the  only  experience  that  will  at  all  shadow  forth 
the  communion  of  man's  soul  with  God.  It  is  the  marriage  of  Spuit 
with  Spuit. 

Read,  now,  the  5th  chapter  of  Ephesians,  beginning  at  the  22(J 

verse : 

"  "Wives,  submit  yourselves  unto  vour  husbands,  as  unto  the  Lord.  For  the  husband 
is  the  head  of  the  wife,  even  as  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  Church;  and  ho  is  the  Savior  of 
the  body.  Therefore,  as  the  Church  is  subject  unto  Christy  so  let  the  wives  be  to  their 
own  husbands  in  every  thing.  Husbands,  love  your  wives,  even  as  Christ  also  loved  the 
Church,  and  gave  himself  for  it,  that  he  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it  with  the  washing 
of  water  by  the  word,  that  he  might  present  it  to  himself  a  glorious  Church,  not  having 
spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing;  but  that  it  should  bo  holy  and  without  blemish." 

I  hear  these  passages  quoted  a  good  deal  to  show  that  wives  ought 
to  be  subject  to  then-  husbands.  I  never  hear  persons  say  that  a  man 
ought  to  be  to  his  wife  such  an  one  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  to  his 
chm-ch — such  an  one  that  by  the  amplitude  and  gi-andeur  of  his  good- 
ness, by  the  richness  and  gentleness  of  his  soul,  he  should  joom-  over 
the  object  of  obedience  such  a  divine  and  blessed  light  that  whether 
she  would  or  would  not  she  could  not  help  looking  up  and  rejoicing, 
and  adoring.  As  Christ  loved  the  church,  and  loves  the  church,  so, 
husbands,  love  your  wives.  And  the  next  time  you  want  to  read  a 
passage  of  Scripture  on  the  duties  of  wives  to  husbands,  begin  at  that ! 
Then  the  apostle  goes  on  to  say  : 

"  So  ought  men  to  love  their  wives  as  their  own  bodies.  He  that  loveth  his  wife 
loveth  himself.   For  no  man  ever  yet  hatod  his  own  flesh,  but  nourisheth  and  cheiisheth 


THE  EOL  Y  SPIRIT.  9  3 

it,  even  as  the  Lord  the  Church;  for  vro  are  all  members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of 
his  bones.  For  this  cause  shall  a  man  leave  his  father  and  mother  [going  bacK:  now  to 
the  other  side  of  it],  and  shall  bo  joined  unto  his  wife,  and  they  two  shall  be  one  flesh." 

And  then  lie  stops,  and  says : 
"  This  is  a  great  mystery."    "What?    "Wedding?    No;  " I  speak  concerning  Christ 
and  the  Church.' 

Here  you  see  that  underlying  figure  of  marriage.  And  you  will 
find,  all  through  the  prophets,  and  again  in  the  teachings  of  the  New- 
Testament,  that  the  marriage  relation  on  earth  is  to  be  interpreted  from 
the  connection  of  God  with  the  human  soul.  Then,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  connection  of  God  with  the  human  soul  is  best  to  be  interpreted 
and  understood  by  selecting  the  very  highest  instances  of  blessings  that 
come  from  the  affiancing  of  two  great  natures  on  earth  in  wedlock,  and 
transferring  these  symbols,  infinitely  enlarged  and  ennobled,  to  the 
nature  of  God  himself 

You  shall  find,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  Bible,  that  this 
matter  of  the  indwelling  of  God  is  treated  as  figure  of  speech.  Human 
life  is  the  fantasy,  if  there  be  one.  The  real  thing  is  that  divine  life 
which  is  invisible.  It  is  divine  because  it  cannot  be  compassed  within 
the  bounds  of  matter  and  space  so  as  to  be  seen.  That  must  be  a  small 
thing  in  any  universe  which  is  able  to  wear  an  outward  body,  and  to 
be  limited  by  space  and  time.  We  live  in  the  point  of  minimum ;  and 
all  phenomena  are  minified  in  the  flesh.  When  things  become  large, 
and  high,  and  universal,  and  unconstrained  by  matter,  they  are  invisi- 
ble. When  souls  rise  into  the  realms  of  the  divine  Spirit,  they  are 
associated  with  him.  They  are  in  actual  communion  Avith  God,  and 
God  is  in  actual  communion  Avith  them.  So  that  to  call  men  "Sons 
of  God "  is  not  a  figure  of  speech. 

We  see,  now,  Avhat  is  the  full  meaning  of  the  terms,  "Light," 
"Bread,"  and  "Water,"  Avhich  are  so  bountifully  employed  by  our  Lord. 
We  say  that  they  are  figm-es  of  speech,  and  that  as  bread  supplies  the 
body,  so  God's  commerce  supplies  the  soul.  In  one  sense  they  are  fig- 
m-es of  speech ;  but  the  figure  is  the  body.  The  superior  truth  is  al- 
ways illustrated  by  the  inferior.  And  feeding  the  soul  by  staining  it 
through  Avith  God's  love,  di-opj)ing  gently  upon  it,  as  the  darkest  thun- 
der clouds  are  stained  through  by  roseate  hues  of  light,  and  turned  to 
glory ;  the  coining  down  upon  the  soul  of  divine  enthusiasms  Avhich 
throw  their  fiery  sparks  all  through  it,  and  kindle  it  Avith  light  and  life 
and  power ;  the  coming  of  the  influence  of  God's  nature  to  the  soul, 
brooding  it,  striking  through  it,  and  rousing  it  up — this  is  true  soul- 
feeding.     It  is  not  like  eating  bread  by  taking  it  into  the  mouth. 

When  men  come  under  the  divine  influence  in  this  AA^ay,  their  life 
is  said  to  be  hid.  Yes,  it  is  hid  :  not  sinii)ly  eclipsed,  as  it  is  in  sleep ; 
but  kid,  by  rising  so  much  higher  than  the  lower  life,  that  the  lower 


94  TEE  SOL  Y  SPIRIT. 

life  does  not  intei-pret  it  faii-ly.  It  has  gone  out  of  sight.  Only  in  that 
sense  is  it  hid. 

The  ai^ostle  Paul  sjjeaks  oiliving  hy  faith.  "Christ  liveth  in  me," 
he  says  in  one  place.  In  another  place  he  speaks  of  his  life  being  hid 
with  Christ  in  God. 

When  one  comes  imder  the  conscious  influence  of  the  divine  Spirit, 
the  soul  lifts  itself  up  with  unwonted  clearness,faith,  joy,  trust,  effluence 
and  liberty.  What  a  bu-d  was  when  it  lay  in  its  little  round  nest,  an  egg, 
compared  with  what  it  is  when  it  sings  m  the  dewy  morning,  neai 
heaven's  gate — that  is  the  soul  in  the  body  compared  with  what  it  is  in 
the  joy  of  sweet  and  loving  intercourse  with  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord.  It  is  a  life  which  comes  to  some  by  flashes.  It  is  a  life  which 
comes  to  some  by  blessed  dreams.  There  is  a  kind  of  spiritual  haze 
which  seems  to  befall  some  men,  as  there  is  an  Indian  summer  which  be- 
falls the  year ;  but  thei-e  is  also  a  true  life.  It  is  possible  for  the  human 
soul  to  live  in  abundance  and  freedom  and  blessedness,  so  that  it  shall 
be  forever  at  rest  and  at  peace.  Does  not  it  shig  ?  Yes.  Is  it  perfect? 
No,  no.  There  is  no  perfection  without  full  growth.  Does  it  keep  the 
law  1  It  may,  or  it  may  not.  I  believe  it  does  not  keep  the  law  per- 
fectly. And  yet,  I  believe  that  the  grace  of  God  is  so  abounding,  I 
believe  that  the  nature  of  divine  love  is  such,  that  when  once  the 
whole  of  a  man's  life  is  directed  upward  toward  the  bosom  of  God, 
minor  discords  are  not  noted.  I  do  not  believe  m  the  old  stiflT,  ledger- 
like account  of  a  man's  conduct,  so  that  just  so  many  sins  are  set  down 
against  him,  and  just  so  many  virtues  are  set  down  to  his  credit.  I 
believe  the  soul's  life  with  God  is  like  the  child's  life  with  the  mother. 
Do  you  suppose,  when  a  child  has  a  great,  true-hearted  mother,  that 
she  keeps  an  account  of  all  its  imperfections  ?  Do  not  you  know  that 
she  pours  over  the  child  such  a  flood  of  love  that,  though  its  life  is  not 
perfect,  though  its  whole  being  is  imperfect,  yet  through  symi^athy  and 
kindness  and  forgiveness,  she  accepts  it  Avith  complacency,  as  though 
it  were  perfect?  And  I  believe  the  soul  rises  into  such  a  connnunion 
with  God  that,  though  in  its  relations  to  time  and  sj^ace  it  may  be  sub- 
ject to  a  thousand  imperfections  and  discords,  yet  those  imperfections 
and  discords  are  overlooked  and  excused  by  God's  great  love. 

When  I  walked  one  day  on  the  top  of  Mount  Washington  (glori- 
ous day  of  memory !  such  another  day  I  think  I  shall  not  exi>erience 
till  I  stand  on  the  battlements  of  the  New  Jerusalem)  how  I  was  dis- 
charged of  all  imperfection !  The  wide,  far-spreading  country  which 
lay  beneath  me  in  beauteous  light — how  heavenly  it  looked!  And  I 
communed  with  God.  I  had  sweet  tokens  that  he  loved  me.  My 
very  being  rose  right  up  into  his  nature.  I  walked  with  him.  And 
the  cities  fai'  and  near — New  York,  and  all  the  cities  and  villages  that 


TEE  HOL  Y  SPIRIT.  9  5 

lay  between  it  and  me — with  tlieii-  thunder  ;  the  -wTanglings  of  human 
passions  below  me,  were  to  me  as  il'  they  were  not.  Standino-,  as  I 
did,  higli  above  them,  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  tliey  did  not  exist. 
There  were  the  attritions,  and  cruel  grhidings,  and  cries,  and  tears,  and 
shocks  of  the  human  life  below,  but  I  was  lifted  up  so  high  that  they 
were  nothing  to  me.  The  sounds  cUed  out,  and  I  was  lost  with  God. 
Aud  the  mountain-top  was  never  so  populotis  to  me  as  when  I  was  ab-  / 
solutely  alone. 

So  it  is  with  the  soul  that  goes  up  into  the  bosom  of  Cluist.  There 
is  a  reach  ^\'here  the  arrows  of  envy  cannot  strike  you.  There  is  a 
reach  where  not  even  your  sins  can  annoy  you.  Yom-  soul  may  so 
rise  into  the  bosom  of  God  that  yom'  personal  self  shall  seem  annilii- 
lated.  What  you  are,  }-ou  are  by  the  grace  of  God.  You  may  re- 
ceive such  an  influx  of  the  liie  of  God  that  you  shall  seem  to  yourself 
perfect. 

3.  From  this  doctrine  of  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon 
one's  self,  we  see  what  is  the  reason  of  certain  phenomena  which  occur 
in  ottr  si)ecial  lives.  There  have  been  times  Avhen  the  least  cares  and 
the  least  troubles  oppressed  yoti  beyond  endurance  ;  when  everything 
went  wrong  with  you.  There  have  been  times  when  yom-  sun  has 
gone  below  the  horizon.  And  no  sooner  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
below  the  horizon,  than  all  mists,  and  distemperattires,  and  miasmas, 
and  unwholesome  things,  seem  to  gather  about  the  htiman  soul.  Those 
days  on  which  yoti  have  been  the  most  temptable,  the  most  unhappy, 
the  least  hopeful  and  cotirageous,  liave  been  the  days  when  by  your  ch-- 
cumstauces  you  have  sunk  out  of  the  sphere  and  light  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  And  then  it  was  that  yoti  could  not  bear  your  burdens.  Then 
it  was  that  you  were  tempted  either  to  break  your  sword,  or,  like  Saul, 
to  fall  on  it  and  slay  yottrself  Then  it  was  that  yotx  said,  "  All  my 
life  past  has  been  nothing,  and  all  my  lile  to  come  will  be  vanity." 

But  you  have  had  other  tunes.  Yott  have  had  times  when  it  seem- 
ed to  you  that  yoti  could  sing.  There  have  been  times  when  there 
were  songs  in  your  house  in  the  night.  There  have  been  times 
when  death  had  no  terror  to  you,  and  when  your  feet  seemed  to  vralk 
on  the  mouiitamtops,  and  you  scorned  the  low  places  of  the  earth. 
There  have  been  times  when,  tmder  the  infltience  of  the  divine  Spirit, 
yottr  soul  was  stumilated,  and  you  walked  in  the  higher  I'anges  of 
Christian  experience.  There  are  days  when  you  have  no  cares  and 
burdens.  There  are  days  when  yoti  have  eminent  beatific  visions. 
There  are  days  when  you  feel  tliat  your  soul  is  going  on  to  greater  and 
greater  liberty  all  the  time.  There  is  no  man  that  is  more  shackled  and 
burdened  than  a  man  who  attempts  to  live  a  Christian  life  by  the  nat- 
m-al  use  of  his  reason  just  below  the  uiflauunation  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; 


96  TEE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

just  below  the  the  stimulating  power  of  the  Spuit  of  God.  There  is 
no  life  that  is  more  fruitful,  more  bountiful  of  blessings  every  day, 
than  a  Chiistian  life  by  which  we  live  so  near  to  God  that  we  are  per- 
petualy  shot  thi'ough  with  the  divine  iufluence,  lifted  up  step  by  step, 
and  blessed  in  overmeasm-e. 

'•  It  is  in  this  point  of  view  that  the  experiences  which  are  jiortrayed 
in  hymns  cease  to  be  mere  fancy-f)ictures.  They  are  a  part  of  the  realm 
of  Christian  experience  which  is  scarcely  recognised  by  natural  philoso- 
phers. It  is  unknown  in  science,  and  cannot  be  known  by  it.  You 
know,  I  know,  hundi-eds  that  are  here  know,  what  the  man  of  wisdom 
in  this  world  ignores  and  scorns  ;  for  there  is  no  other  fact  so  certain 
as  the  fact  of  positive  consciousness  of  experience.  You  cannot  tell 
me  that  I  have  not  had  victories  over  fear  and  trouble.  You  cannot 
tell  me  that  when  my  babe,  that  was  dearer  to  me  than  my  own  life, 
lay  trembling  and  gasping  in  the  twilight  of  death,  and  I  stood  and 
was  able  to  say,  "  Take  it.  Lord,"  I  did  not  feel  it.  You  cannot  tell 
me  that,  strong  as  was  my  love  for  childi'en,  for  my  own  children,  I 
did  not  have  some  mysterious  power  given  to  me  by  which  I  gave 
them  up  and  smiled  when  they  died.  I  know  that  I  did.  You  may 
say,  "  Oh,  well,  it  was  the  fantasy  of  the  mind."  Yes,  it  \\iis,  fantasy, 
if  that  is  the  language  which  you  choose  to  apply  to  the  higher  jihe- 
nomena  of  the  mmd  when  brought  into  the  presence  and  under  the 
stimulation  of  God.  I  believed  in  God,  and  I  felt  him.  I  believed  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  I  almost  saw  him.  I  believed  in  immor- 
tality. As  a  bu'd  sings,  now  in  this  tree  in  my  garden,  and  then  in 
that,  so  ray  child  sang,  now  in  my  nursery,  and  then  in  God's.  It  was 
not  dead.  It  had  simply  flown  to  the*  summer-land.  And  will  any 
man  tell  me  that  these  experiences  were  not  real  ?  What  do  I  care  for 
the  distances  of  planets.  A  knowledge  of  them  is  well  enough  for  the 
outside ;  but  I  tell  you,  the  true  life  in  this  world  is  the  life  that  is  go- 
ing on  in  the  soul  of  man.  No  man  knows  what  he  is  until  he  has 
■  risen  beyond  the  height  of  literature  and  social  pleasure.  No  man 
knows  what  the  soul  is  capable  of  being  or  feeling,  what  vast  cu'cuits 
it  can  make,  what  voluminous  exjjeriences  it  can  ha\e,  what  strange 
triumphs  belong  to  it,  or  what  endm-ances  and  victories  it  can  achieve, 
until  he  is  brought  under  the  influence  of  God.  These  things  are  to 
be  exjjerimentally  learned.  "The  natm-al  man  receivetli  not  the  things 
of  the  Spirit."  No  man  can  know  them  who  has  not  experienced 
them. 

But  we.  Christian  brethren,  have  had  touches  of  a  knowledge  of 
them.  We  have  had  days  of  knowing  them.  And  y^'hy  should  we 
not  have  more  than  that  ? 

We  are  told  that  the  divine  Spirit  is  not  given  by  measure,  a  little 


TEE  noL  Y  sriniT.  9  7 

now  and  then.  The  divine  Spirit  is  not  like  some  aurora  horealls 
which  comes  for  a  niglit  or  two,  and  then  skips  weeks  and  months,  and 
then  conies  again.  The  divine  Spirit  is  like  light,  like  bread,  like  ica- 
ter.  These  are  the  symbols  which  Jesus  Christ  has  been  pleased  to 
give  us,  not  simply  on  account  of  then-  use,  but  also  on  account  of  then- 
endlessness  and  endmingness. 

But,  may  eveiy  one  rise  into  this  high  communion,  and  dwell  with 
God's  Spirit  ?  Every  one.  Not  every  one  alike  in  fruition,  but  every  one 
according  to  his  own  nature.  If  you  are  a  giant,  you  must  drink  like 
a  giant ;  and  if  you  are  a  pigmy,  you  must  drink  like  a  pigmy.  And 
if  a  giant  and  a  pigmy  go  down  to  a  spring,  if  the  little  man's  cup  is 
large  enough  for  him,  it  is  nothing  to  him  that  the  giant's  cup  is  ten 
times  as  large.  The  giant  drinks  according  to  his  size  ;  and  the  little 
man  diinks  according  to  his  size.  And  men  rise  according  to  then* 
nature  into  this  blessed  effluence  of  God.  Some  there  are,  doubtless, 
who  have  larger  conceptions  and  vaster  experiences  than  others ;  and 
so  it  will  be  if  every  man  is  developed  according  to  his  own  natm-e  ; 
but  you  are  not  stinted  because  other  men  are  more  comprehensive  in 
their  experience  than  you  are.  It  is  according  to  that  universal  j^ro- 
vision  which  was  made  for  all  men. 

Now,  all  Chiistians  who  are  living  in  these  lower  states,  are  living 
below  citizenship.     They  are  living  below  the  life  to  which  they  are 
called.     They  are  living  below  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  a  Chris- 
tian life.     That  which  is  to  make  you  apparently  and  confidently  a 
Christian  is  your  daily  experience.     Dp  not  go  to  your  books  to  find 
out  whether  you  are  a  Christian  or  not.     Do  not  go  to  the  syllabus  to 
look  up  evidences  and  ascertain  whether  or  not  you  are  a  Christian. 
I  never  in  my  life  read  in  books  to  find  out  whether  I  loved  my  father 
or  not.     I  never  went  to  a  journal  to  see  whether  I  was  happy  at  home 
or  not.     And  I  do  not  have  much  respect  for  persons  who  are  in  doubt 
whether  they  are  Christians  or  not.     At  the  beginning  they  need  some 
help ;  everybody  needs  some  help  to  be  born ;  but  certainly,  men  that 
have  lived  years  and  years  as  Christians  ought  not  to  give  themselves 
much  anxious  thought  as  to  whether  they  are  Christians  or  not.     One 
thing  is  very  certain,  that  if  your  wife  should  say  to  you,  "  My  dear,  I 
am  exceedingly  perplexed,  and  have  been  for  Aveeks  and  months,  in 
trying  to  find  out  whether  I  love  you  or  not,"  you  would  say  very 
quickly,  "  AVell,   I  know!"     There  is  such  a  victoriousness,  there  is 
such  a  fire,  in  love,  that  no  man  is  ever  in  much  doubt  about  it.     And 
in  regard  to  this  matter,  T  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  not  babes 
in  the  Christian  life.     I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  not  bond- 
servants of  the  Lord.     I  believe  there  are  many  of  you  that  are  the 
Lord's  hued  men,  and  that  work  on  wages :  I  believe  that  many  of  you 


98  THE  EOL  T  SPIRIT. 

are  the  Lord's  stewards  and  agents ;  but  how  many  of  you  are  the 
Lord's  children,  living  at  home  %  How  many  of  you  can  say  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  and  appropriate  it  to  yourselves  %  You  think  you  can  : 
but  you  stumble,  and  Ue  in  heaps,  at  the  first  word — "  Our  Father." 
There  are  but  few  men  that  ever  say  right  out,  spontaneously,  "  Om* 
Father." 

You  are  not  living  in  the  best  parts  of  your  natm-e.  You  are  yet 
in  the  realm  of  care.  I  know  it  by  the  scowl  and  wrinkle  on  yom-  face. 
I  know  it  by  your  bent  back.  I  know  it  by  the  melancholy  tone  of 
yom*  voice.  I  know  it  by  the  mmor  key  in  which  you  make  yom*  con- 
fessions.    I  know  it  by  the  want  of  triinnph  wliich  you  exhibit. 

Where  are  the  blossoming  men  %  Where  are  the  clustering,  fuU- 
hanging  men  ?  Where  are  those  men  who  show  that  summer  has 
broken  out  of  heaven  and  is  resting  on  then-  heads  %  They  are  the 
men  who  are  "the  light  of  the  world."  They  are  God's  dear  childi'en, 
risen  out  of  the  lower  atmosphere  and  above  the  storm.  They  have 
left  the  thunder  and  the  cloud  beneath  their  feet,  and  are  standing  on 
the  mountain-top  in  blessed  transfiguration  with  the  Lord. 

May  God  give  us  grace  to  find  this  higher  life,  this  inward  life,  this 
blessing  of  God  on  our  spuit,  by  which  we  shall  be  lifted  above  the 
lower  range  of  experience,  and  brought  up  into  the  communion  of 
sons  of  God,  and  made  heu's  of  immortality. 


THE  nOL  Y  SPIRIT.  9  9 

PRAYER    BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

Draw  near  to  us,  0  thou  Son  of  Righteousness,  and  by  thy  light  and  -warmth  drive 
away  those  clouds  aud  mists  which  obscure  thoo,  and  hide  us  in  darkness.  Reveal  to 
us  what  wo  are.  Bring  us  into  that  blessed  comprehensiun  of  thee  which  they  have 
who  are  pure  in  heart,  and  which  thoy  may  have  who  for  the  moment  are  lifted  above 
life  and  all  its  various  experiences  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  thy  life  we  shall 
see  life.  Wo  rejoice  that  our  whole  life  is  of  thee,  and  that  our  best  life  is  hidden  in 
thee,  and  that  all  this  life  merges  toward  thine,  and  that  wo  ourselves  arc  pilgrims  goin" 
home,  aud  that  thou  art  waitiug  for  us.  Kot  content  to  make  us  joyful  when  we 
shall  reach  the  gate  of  our  Father's  house,  thou  art  sending  down  the  road  messen"-er 
after  messenger;  and  wo  are  met  continually  by  these  kind  reminders  of  thy  foresight 
thy  forecasting  love  thy  providence  and  thy  grace,  which  throng  our  steps  with  mercies. 
And  all  om-  life  long  wo  are  blessed;  and  we  are  yet  to  be  blessed  in  superemincnco  when 
we  shall  bo  at  home  and  with  thee. 

"Wo  thank  thee  for  all  the  mercies  which  have  made  home  so  dear  a  word  to  us.  "We 
thank  thee  for  all  tho  experiences  one  with  auolher  by  which  the  word  fore  interprets 
thee  to  our  souls  so  royally,  and  makes  thee  the  Chief  among  ten  thousand,  and  the  One 
altogether  lovely.  "Wo  thank  thee  for  all  the  instruction  which  wo  have  had  in  the 
sanctuaiy,  and  the  great  outer  sanctuary  of  thy  providence. 

Aud  now  wo  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  we  may  more  and  more  grow  in 
grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  "We  desire  that  oar 
life  shall  be  conformed  to  his;  our  heart  to  his;  our  whole  image  to  his.  "We  desire  to 
rise  from  glory  to  glory  by  the  power  of  God;  to  overcome  things  that  as'ail  us  in  this 
mortal  life;  to  endure  unto  the  end;  and  to  be  glorified  with  him  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

Vouchsafe,  wo  pray  thee,  to  all  thy  people  this  morning  that  illumination  of  thy 
presence,  that  joyful  blessing  of  thyself,  which  shall  give  them  to  themselves. 

"We  pray.  O  God,  that  thou  wilt  sanctify  to  every  one  the  various  experiences  of  the 
oast  week.  If  there  are  any  that  have  come  down  through  battle  with  care  and  trouble 
all  the  way  to  this  morning,  wilt  thou  this  morning  speak  to  their  adversaries,  that  there 
may  be  peace  to  their  souls  on  this  day  of  rest.  If  there  are  those  who  have  come  wet 
with  tears,  wilt  thou  comfort  them  with  the  assurance  of  thy  sympathy.  Greet  them, 
this  morning,  with  that  light  of  thy  countenance  by  which  their  very  sorrows  shall  be 
made  beautiful  to  them,  so  that  to  them  weakness  shall  be  strong,  darkness  full  of  stars, 
and  death  full  of  life. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  wo  may  not  desire  to  draw  ourselves  back  from  the  expe- 
riences of  good  soldiers.  May  we  remember  our  Master.  May  we  remember  how  he  be- 
came a  perfect  Captain  through  suffering,  and  how  he  learned  obedience  that  be  might 
be  a  Savior  for  us.  And  are  wo  better  than  he  ?  Shall  ho  wear  the  crown  of  thorns,  and 
wt  not  touch  with  our  hand  even  a  nettle?  Shall  ho  bo  stoned  even  unto  death,  and  we 
not  bo  content  unless  wo  walk  in  all  the  royalty  of  life  ?  Grant  that  we  may  be  content 
to  be  followers  of  the  Sufferer.  May  we  bo  content  to  bear  something  of  his  cross — 
something  of  his  experience?  May  wo  rejoice  not  only  that  we  are  permitted  to  be 
called  by  the  name  of  Christ,  but  that  to  us  it  is  given  to  suffer  also  for  his  name. 

Wo  pray  that  thou  wilt  carry  light  into  every  household,  and  comfort  and  enconrage- 
ment  into  every  darkened  and  despondent  heart.  Grant,  if  there  be  in  thy  presence 
those  who  are  wrestling  with  their  outward  circumstances,  and  thy  providential  arrange- 
ments, that  they  may  know  how  to  cast  their  care  on  thee — to  roll  their  burden  on  the 
Lord— that  they  may  be  lightened.  And  if  there  are  those  who  are  wrestling  with  their 
own  nature,  and  who  find  that  their  own  disposition  is  the  trouble  of  their  life,  and  that 
their  souls  are  as  a  troubled  sea  which  cannot  rest,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou,  who 
didst  walk  upon  the  midnight  sea,  and  bring  upon  thy  affrighted  discijiles  peace  and  vic- 
tory, wilt  now  come  upon  every  one  whose  trouble  is  with  himself  and  whoso  passions 
aro  as  waves  that  will  not  rest.  And  we  pray  that  in  thee  there  may  be  certainty  of 
triumph.    We  beseech  of  thee  that  none  may  be  despondent  in  turning  away  from  evil 


100  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

and  seeking  good,  nor  bo  unwilling  to  go  up  tho  steep  and  narrow  way.  And  may  all 
bo  willing,  even  if  it  bo  with  blood,  to  atone  for  their  own  sins.  May  they  remember 
Him  who  shed  his  blood  for  their  salvation. 

"We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord!  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  look  upon  tho  New 
Jerusalem  from  afar,  and  are  not  of  it,  and  seek  not  its  gates,  like  travelers  that,  from 
afar,  look  upon  some  city,  and  enter  it  not,  and  pass  by  it.  Bring  near  those  that  are 
afar  off.  Grant  that  in  tho  hearts  of  many  there  may  bo  a  quickening  and  an 
arousing  of  tho  conscience  more  and  more.  May  they  that  are  of  the  world  feel  how 
little  tho  world  has  to  give  them.  May  they  understand  that  while  it  has  little  to  give 
to  any  part,  it  has  nothing  to  give  to  that  which  is  divinest  in  them. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  theo,  that  there  may  be  many  turned  away  from  wandering. 
May  many  be  led  back  to  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  their  souls.  "We  pray  that  we  may 
hear  of  those  that  are  Christianly  reared  educating  themselves.  As  their  parents  conse- 
crated them  in  their  youth,  may  they  ratify  that  consecration  in  their  earlj'  manhood. 

"Wo  beseech  of  theo  that  thou  wilt  bless  all  those  who  are  going  forth  from  day  to 
day  to  baptize  in  thy  name.  Pour  thy  Spirit  upon  them,  that  they  may  be  able  to  walk 
boldly  and  firmly  and  victoriously  in  tho  midst  of  the  alluremeuts  of  this  world.  "W'e 
pray  that  thy  servants  may  everywhere  rejoice  to  bo  called  of  thee,  and  feel  thee  in  the 
very  way  about  them,  by  day  and  by  night,  and  walk  with  a  song,  and  an  assurance  of 
victory.  And  wo  pray  that  thy  kingdom  may  come  among  those  that  are  outcast.  Bless 
those  in  whoso  hearts  thou  hast  breathed  tho  inspiration  of  mercy.  And  as  thy  servants 
go  from  the  sick  to  the  sick,  from  tho  imprisoned  to  the  imprisoned,  and  from  tho  out- 
cast to  tho  lost,  grant  that  thy  Spirit  may  go  with  them,  and  sanctify  their  endeavors. 
And  as  they  water,  so  may  they  bo  watered. 

O  Lord,  our  God!  we  beseech  of  theo  that  thou  wilt  bless  our  Sabbath  schools,  and 
our  Bible  classes,  and  all  those  that  are  everywhere  spread  abroad  in  tho  week-day  or 
sabbath,  teaching  the  young.  Ordain  these  instrumentalities  for  the  benefit  of  the  rising 
generation,  and  for  thine  own  glory  in  them. 

"We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  all  Churches  of  every  name,  and  all  that  preach  the 
Gospel.  May  their  hearts  be  brought  into  such  unison  with  thine  that  it  shall  be  always 
and  evermore  a  message  from  God,  with  tho  very  spirit  of  heaven  breathing  in  it. 

"We  pray  that  thou  wilt  unite  thy  people  with  confidence.  May  the  heart  bo  mightier 
than  tho  body.  May  the  inward  and  spiritual  union  bring  them  together  more  tnan  out- 
ward conditions  can  dissever  them.  And  wo  pray  that  thy  kingdom  may  come  every- 
where. May  injustice  cease.  May  wars  come  to  an  end,  and  the  occasions  of  them  pass 
away.  "Wo  pray  that  superstition,  and  ignorance,  and  all  things  that  offend,  may  be 
purged  out  of  this  world.  And  may  the  glorious  predictions  of  the  latter-day  glorjt 
make  haste,  and  unfold  their  banners,  and  show  themselves  mighty  upon  the  mountains, 
and  descend  into  the  plains,  for  final  victory. 

And  to  thy  name,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  shall  bo  praises  everlasting.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  of  truth  spoken  to  all 
that  have  heard  it.  Come  for  thine  own,  dear  Savior.  Come  for  thy  followers,  disheveled 
as  they  are,  wandering  hither  and  thither,  and  oppressed.  O  Lord  Jesus !  what  is  the 
experience  of  thy  gentle  and  pitying  soul,  to  see  thine  own  so  despoiled?  "When  our 
children  are  scattered  in  evil,  how  do  wo  bear  burdens  I  and  dost  not  thou  still  bear  bur- 
dens on  our  account  ?  Are  we  not  still  healed  by  the  chastisements  which  are  laid  upon 
theo,  and  not  upon  us.  Oh,  abiding  Savior!  reveal  to  thy  servants  tho  way  of  salvation. 
Bathe  our  hearts  in  the  atmosphere  of  thy  love.  Send  summer  upon  us  all.  Give  us  an 
open  eye  and  a  receptive  heart.  Give  us  elevation  into  that  region  where  we  shall 
find  our  true  food,  our  tnie  society,  and  our  true  life.  And  thus  may  we  live  in  a 
glorious  beatific  vision.  Thus  may  wo  live  in  increasing  amplitude  of  experience.  And 
dying,  may  wo  go  from  glory  to  glory. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  bo  the  praise,  forever  and  forever.    Amen. 


VII. 

Ideal  Standard  of  Duty. 


IDEAL  STANDAEDS  OF  DUTY. 


"Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar." — KoM.,  ill.    4. 

The  context  is,  '•  For  what  if  some  did  not  believe  ?  shall  their  un- 
belief make  the  faith  of  God  without  effect  ?  God  forbid ;  yea,  let 
Goa  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar." 

It  sounds  harshly  ;  but  there  is  nothing  further  from  harshn-iss  than 
the  spirit  of  this  passage.  Does  it  seem  to  ignore  man's  moral  right  ? 
Is  it  the  shadow  of  such  a  doctrine  of  sovereignty  as  would  sacrifice 
the  whole  human  race  for  the  sake  of  buildmg  up  a  solitary  God  of 
ineffable  glory  ?  There  have  been  ways  of  attempting  to  exalt  God 
which  substantially  amounted  to  this :  that  he  was  an  all-engulfing  self 
ishness,  and  that  he  was  to  be  made  resplendent,  no  matter  what  be- 
came of  everything  else.  Is  this  such  a  doctrine  %  Far  from  it.  There 
is  no  such  thing  in  it. 

A  man  has  rights  before  God  as  well  as  before  his  fellow  men  ;  and 
nowhere  are  they  meddled  with,  except  to  augment  and  fortify  them 
so  much  as  in  the  tribunal  of  God's  own  heart. 

The  apostle  had  been  showing  the  self-sufiicient  and  spiritually  con- 
ceited Jews  that  they  had  utterly  failed  of  becoming  truly  religious  by 
means  of  the  old  law.  He  was  preparing  the  way  to  present  Jesus 
Christ  to  them  as  the  fulfillment  of  then*  law,  and  he  was  convicting 
them  of  all  manner  of  disobediences  under  that  law.  And  the  ques- 
tion arises,  as  we  shall  see,  very  natm-ally,  "  What !  was  the  law,  then, 
good  for  nothing  ?  "  The  law  was  good ;  but  it  was  weak.  It  was  not 
strong  enough.  It  had  not  motive  and  authority  enough.  It  meant 
the  right  thing,  but  man  was  too  weak.  Therefore,  the  law  did  not 
work  out  that  which  its  interior  spuitual  tendency  would  have  wi'ought 
out  if  it  had  been  unchecked.  But,  if  the  law  was  weak,  then  God 
attempted  to  do  what  he  was  unable  to  do.  If  the  law  was  dishonor- 
ed in  the  conduct  of  the  Jews,  how  should  the  Lawgiver  retain  honor? 
"Was  the  law  to  blame,  then  ?      Ko  ;  the  law  was  good.      "  But,"  say 

Sunday  E\'EN-n«G,  Oct.  24, 1869.— Lesson  :  Kom.  H,  1-16.  HniNS  (Plymouth  Collection): 
Nos.  8-17,  1040,  1353. 


102  IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY. 

men,  "  it  failed  ;  the  Jews  fell  short  of  righteousness ;  and  God  is  td 
blame."  "  N'o."  says  the  apostle,  "let  God  be  true,  but  ev^ery  man  a 
liai'.     God  is  not  implicated." 

The  tendency  of  the  Jewish  objector  was  to  defend  the  national 
character,  and  to  justify  his  compatriots,  by  bringing  down  the  charac 
ter  and  government  of  God ;  and  the  apostle  answered,  "  Let  the  jus- 
tice and  goodness  of  God  remain  untarnished,  however  it  may  affect 
men's  reputation.  It  is  not  right  that  God  should  be  clouded  by  the 
passions  which  arise  from  human  conduct  under  the  divine  government 
It  is  needful  to  man  that  the  ideal  of  the  universe,  which  God  is,  should 
remain  untarnished."  And  the  doctrine  which  wo  deduce  from  this 
jDassage  \?,,  first,  the  tendency  of  the  human  heart  to  seek  to  diminish 
the  intensity  of  self-condemnation  under  a  consciousness  of  Ul-desert,  by 
lowering  the  standard  of  duty :  and  second,  the  importance  of  main- 
taining our  ideal  of  rectitude  and  of  duty  in  spite  of  all  imperfections 
on  the  part  of  men  under  such  law  or  ideal. 

All  sense  of  self-condemnation  arises  from  a  comparison  of  one's 
deeds,  character,  life  and  motives,  with  certain  definite  standards  of 
duty.  If  there  had  been  no  law,  there  could  have  been  no  sense  of 
violating  law,  and  no  sense,  therefore,  of  sin. 

There  is  one  thing  which  we  bear  less  willingly  than  any  other — 
namely,  a  sharp  sense  of  shame  in  self-condemnation ;  and  that,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  make-up  of  the  character  or  the  nature  of  a  man  is 
strong.  If  a  man  be  weak,  and  he  naturally  tends  to  collapse,  it  does 
not  make  much  difference  to  him  whether  it  be  one  thing  or  another ; 
but  if  the  pillars  of  a  man's  soul  are  set  up  strongly ;  if  his  reason  is 
luminous ;  if  his  self-respect  is  positive  :  if  his  ideal  of  true  character 
and  manliness  is  eminent,  then  there  is  nothing  that  he  bears  less  wil- 
lingly than  to  be  brought  into  judgment  before  himself  The  mischief 
of  being  brought  to  shame  before  men,  is,  that  the  very  shame  which 
cm*  exposure  before  men  excites,  rebounds  in  us,  and  produces  there 
self-degradation  and  self-abhorrance.  There  is  no  other  feeling  that  is 
more  mephitic,  and  none  that  seems  to  suffocate  a  man  more,  than  to 
feel  in  his  own  sight  condemned,  and  to  be  worried  by  his  own  accus- 
ing and  condemning  conscience.  And  in  certain  natures,  and  during 
certain  periods  of  men's  lives,  almost  without  regard  to  theu*  natui'e,  it 
amounts  actually  to  torment. 

While,  then,  this  feeling  is  so  acute  and  so  unbearable,  it  is  scarcely 
surprising  that  men  attempt  to  get  rid  of  it.  They  pad  their  conduct, 
as  it  were,  that  the  yoke  may  not  bear  so  heavily  where  they  feel  sore. 
They  attempt  in  one  way  or  another,  to  get  rid  of  this  self-condemning 
feeling.  They  want  to  stand  better  with  themselves  than  with  anybody 
else.     Therefore,  men  tell  themselves  more  lies,  and  make  believe  more, 


IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY.  103 

m  this  (livoction.  than  in  any  other.  They  flatter  themselves.  They 
deliberately  foci  themselves.  They  go  about  to  do  it — and  for  the 
same  reason  that  men  take  opiates.  "It  is  not  good,"  says  your  physi- 
cian, "  that  you  should  take  opiates  to  remove  that  sharp  pam.  You 
had  better  take  a  longer  course  of  medicament  and  remove  the  cause, 
and  so  get  rid  of  the  pain."  "But,"  you  say,  "  I  must  pursue  my  busi- 
ness ;  and,  though  it  may  not  be  the  best  thing,  give  me  the  opiate." 
Men  will  not,  if  they  can  help  it,  bear  the  sting,  the  rasp,  or  the  ache, 
of  self-condemnation  ;  and  by  every  means  in  their  power  they  are  per 
petually  trying  to  get  rid  of  it. 

The  ordinary  method  is  to  impaii"  that  rule  of  conduct,  or  that  ideal 
of  life,  which  condemns  them.  They  attack  that  which  attacks  them. 
They  say,  "  That  law  which  makes  my  conduct  hateful  shall  not  stand 
with  such  sovereignty.  I  will  pull  it  down.  I  will  hate  it.  I  will  dis- 
mantle it.  It  shall  not  stand  with  such  imperious  authority  to  overlook 
me,  and  then  smite  me  with  these  pangs  of  self-reproach."  Men  plead 
the  force  of  circumstances  for  breaking  the  laws  which  are  most  pain- 
ful to  them.  They  attempt  to  show  that  they  are  not  to  blame.  They 
plead  that  breaking  the  law  is  not  very  sinful.  That  is,  to  save  them- 
selves, they  destroy  the  dignity  and  the  importance  of  the  law.  The  law 
that,  being  broken,  harms  no  one,  has  no  reason  for  existing  at  all. 
And  so  if  men  say,  "  This  is  not  a  great  sin :  the  law  says  it  is ;  but 
the  saying  so  does  not  make  it  so,"  it  is  a  deceitful  and  underhanded 
way  of  attacking  the  law  itself. 

Now,  according  to  the  spuit  of  our  text,  let  the  law  remain  if  every 
man  is  crushed.  Let  God  be  true  ;  let  him  stand  really  God,  speaking 
truth  and  acting  justice,  though  the  unclouded  ideal  of  his  glory  and 
example  should  bring  self-condemnation  to  every  human  soul. 

Men  at  length  du-ectly  assail  the  law.  They  lower  its  dignity. 
They  deny  its  authority.  They  even  make  it  a  patron  of  then-  sins. 
Sometimes  they  actually  represent  it  as  being  particeps  oriminis  with 
them.     Let  us  trace  this  tendency, 

A  chUd  that  will  not  obey  his  parents'  injunctions  begins,  after  a 
while,  to  find  fault  with  the  rigor  by  which  he  is  held  in  check ;  and  as 
he  gets  older  he  finds  fault  with  the  unreasonableness  of  family  govern- 
ment ;  and  he  finds  developed  more  and  more  in  himself  a  strong  ten- 
dency to  resist  and  throw  ofi"  parental  authority.  "  To  be  sure,"  he 
says,  "  I  have  gone  forth  at  untimely  hom-s ;  to  be  sure,  I  hav« 
indulged  in  pleasures  more  than  I  ought ;  to  be  sure,  I  have  had 
my  own  way  in  contravention  of  express  authority ;  but  then,  I  am 
not  so  much  to  blame.  Who  could  live  in  a  family  screwed  up  as 
tensely  as  this  is  ?  A  man  must  have  some  room.  There  is  no  chance 
to  breathe  at  home.     Everything  is  narrow  and  hateful  here.      I  must 


]  04:  IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  D  UTT. 

have  liberty  to  Uvey  In  other  words,  what  is  all  this  but  an  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  child  to  excuse  its  own  defects  and  disobechence,  by 
inveighing  against  the  nature  of  the  law  under  which  the  obedience 
takes  placet  This  tendency  begins  early ;  and  a  person  is  just  as  pro- 
ficient in  attempting  to  cover  over  his  own  wrong-doing  by  degi-ading 
authority,  in  childhood,  as  he  will  be  when  forty  years  have  taught  him 
the  profession. 

When  the  young  go  forth  from  under  the  parental  roof  to  the  train- 
mg,  gi-ound  of  life,  they  manifest  the  same  tendency.  The  truant  and 
dullard  at  school,  not  fulfilling  his  tasks,  turns  against  the  master,  and 
at  last  against  the  school.  He  declares  that  it  is  not  his  fault.  Or, 
if  he  admits  that  it  is  his  fault  in  part,  he  pleads  the  provocation — the 
PROVOCATION  !  And  so  the  rebellious  boy  at  school  tarnishes  the  good 
reputation  of  the  teacher,  and  inveighs  against  the  school.  "  I  would 
rather  be  in  the  Black-hole  of  Calcutta ! "  he  says — and  all  because 
he  will  not  study,  and  because  he  will  frohc  in  ways  that  destroy  the 
government  and  regimen  of  the  school. 

If  a  young  man  is  learning  a  profession,  and  he  prefers  to  sport 
rather  than  to  work,  and  is  indolent,  and  unsteady,  when  the  pressure 
of  blame  and  condemnation  begins  to  come  on  him,  he  tm-ns  instantly 
to  find  reasons,  not  in  himself,  but  in  the  master,  in  the  shop,  in  the 
business ;  and  he  finds  fault  with  every  thing  except  that  corrupt  and 
fractious  disposition  which  he  canies  in  his  own  soul.  He  blames 
everybody  and  everything  but  his  own  self 

When  under  the  head  and  heat  of  youthful  passions  men  defy  the 
moral  public  sentiment  which  expresses  the  social  conscience  of  the 
community,  and  come  under  its  ban,  and  begin  to  smart,  the  more  gen- 
erous natures  are  sometimes  recovered ;  but  you  will  find  that  ordina- 
rily the  hifliction  of  the  unemng  penalty  of  public  sentiment  on  selfish 
and  proud  natures,  leads  them  to  attack  public  sentiment.  If  it  be  a 
course  of  impurity  that  they  have  pm-sued,  they  charge  public  senti- 
ment with  prudery.  If  they  have  been  going  m  ways  m  which  they 
have  left  truth  far  behind,  they  charge  public  sentiment  with  fanaticism. 
If  they  have  been  indulging  then*  passions,  they  charge  public  senti- 
ment with  being  under  the  control  of  puritanism.  Men  will  eat  to 
gluttony,  and  drink  to  intemperance,  and  wallow  in  bestial  lusts,  and 
indulge  in  all  manner  of  pleasures,  being  profuse  in  everything  but  rec- 
titude, and  then,  when  the  worthlessness  and  mischievou-sness  of  their 
career  is  brought  home  to  them,  they  will  tm-n  and  inveigh  against  that 
law,  and  that  ideal  of  rectitude,  and  that  very  notion  of  manhood,  to 
which  they  are  held,  and  by  which  they  ai-e  measm-ed.  And,  more 
than  that,  they  do  not  believe  there  is  anything  in  the  community  bet 
ter  than  they  ai'e. 


IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY.  105 

That  which  is  true  in  respect  to  the  social  defections  of  men,  be- 
comes also  a  marked  featm-e  in  criminal  life.  As  men  begin  to  violate 
the  laws  of  the  community  in  the  spirit,  or  in  the  letter,  or  both ;  as 
they  begin  to  suifer,  either  under  the  loss  of  rejiutation  or  under  the 
suspicion  of  having  lost  it ;  as  they  begin  to  feel  the  stings  of  penalty, 
they  seek  to  excuse  themselves  from  blame,  and  to  fix  it  upon  others. 
Even  when  the  law  cannot  get  its  hand  upon  them;  or  when,  getting 
it  on  them,  it  cannot  hold  them  (for  in  some  cases  men  are  like  eels, 
and  the  law  is  a  fisherman  that  can  catch  them  but  cannot  hold  them ; 
and  in  other  cases  men  are  like  electric  eels  that  paralyze  the  one  that 
touches  them) ;  and  when  they  begin  to  feel  that  other  law,  the  un- 
written law,  which  no  man  can  escape ;  when  they  begin  to  feel  the 
judgment  of  good  men's  thoughts ;  Avhen  they  begin  to  feel  the  wintry 
blast  of  good  men's  indignation  round  about  them,  and  they  are  called 
"sharpers,"  and  are  treated  as  such,  and  they  are  said  to  be  "too  keen 
for  honest  men,"  and  they  begin  to  feel  the  cold  glance  and  the  impe- 
rious bearing  of  the  consciously  good  man  that  looks  down  upon  them 
— then  they  resent  it.  They  complain  that  it  is  an  indignity  heaped 
upon  them ;  that  it  is  a  wi'ong  done  to  them.  And  if  you  press  their 
misconduct  home  upon  them,  they  say,  "Society  is  wi'ongly  organized. 
Society  is  the  mother  of  crime  in  modern  times.  If  society  were  better 
organized,  business  would  be  conducted  diiFerently,  and  men  would  act 
difierently-  But  how  can  you  expect  that  a  man  will  be  right  when 
everything  is  organized  on  wrong  principles  ?"  And  so  men,  in  order 
to  justify  then*  personal  dishonesties,  then*  own  criminal  acts,  destroy 
the  reputation  of  society,  and  the  equity  of  business,  or  seek  to  do  it. 

In  special  avocations  men  are  perpetually  justifying  themselves  for 
wi'ong  conduct.  In  the  ministry,  in  the  law,  in  the  medical  profession, 
in  mechanical  pursuits,  in  commercial  operations,  men  justify  them- 
selves by  pleading  that  such  and  such  callings  cannot  be  successfully 
followed  without  moral  obliquity.  And  what  is  this  but  tarnishing 
these  employments,  destroying  theii'  reputation,  for  the  sake  of  shield- 
ing one's  own. 

Law  becomes  an  oppressor  in  the  eye  of  the  ti'ansgi*essor ;  and  in- 
stead of  laying  then-  hand  on  their  mouth,  and  then*  mouth  in  the  dust^ 
and  crying,  "  Guilty  !  guilty!"  they  stand  and  arraign  the  law.  They 
plead  "circumstances."  They  declare  that  they  are  not  so  bad  as  tliey 
are  thought  to  be.  They  complain  that  they  are  measured  wi'ongly. 
And  so  they  would  have  God  a  liar,  as  it  were,  that  they  might  be  jus- 
tified. But  "let  God  be  tnie,  and  every  man  a  liar."  Let  not  your 
ideal  of  justice,  your  ideal  of  excellence,  yom-  ideal  of  essential  benefi- 
cence, and  the  wisdom  of  all  the  gi-eat  forms  in  which  society  has  de- 
veloped itself  in  the  spheres  of  business,  go  down  for  the  sake  of 


106  IDEAL  8TANDABD8  OF  DUTY. 

covering  iij»  your  sin-stung  conscience.  Humble  yourself,  and  reform, 
but  do  not  attempt  to  shield  yourself  by  destroying  the  very  founda- 
tions on  which  life  ^.nd  integrity  stand. 

This  general  disposition  has  a  sphere  of  activity  in  regard  to  vii'tue, 
probity,  sincerity  and  temperance.  It  is  bad  enough  for  one  to  be 
unvu'tuous,  dishonest,  insincere,  and  intemperate ;  but  the  mischief  is 
not  half  done  when  these  vices,  these  social  misdemeanors,  are  devel- 
oped in  men.  There  is  something  worse  than  such  evils.  When  a 
man  is  intemperate  he  sins  against  his  own  body  and  soul,  in  the  mere 
act  of  inordinate  stimulation,  which  disorganizes  both  the  physical,  the 
intellectual,  and  the  moral  parts  of  the  being ;  but  he  may  still  know 
that  there  is  sv^ch  a  thing  as  self-government,  and  respect  it,  and  still 
believe  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  temperance,  and  revere  it.  But 
what  if  he  has  given  himself  over  to  be  a  bond-slave  to  his  appetites  ? 
and  what  if,  besides  that,  he  justifies  himself,  and  says,  "I  am  no  more 
intemperate  than  anybody  else.  I  am  frank  and  open.  I  diink,  and 
show  it.  Other  men  di-ink  more  than  I  do,  and  do  not  show  it.  Just 
go  behind  the  door  and  see  what  these  temperance  men  do.  They  are 
all  a  pack  of  di-unkards,  only  they  are  hypocrites.  I  am  the  only  hon- 
est man  among  themf  What  is  this  ?  Why,  it  is  the  j^lea  of  a  man 
who,  not  satisfied  with  being  a  drunkard,  is  destroying  the  very  ideal 
of  temperance.  He  does  not  believe  that  there  is  anybody  better  than 
he  is,  if  you  could  only  turn  the  secrets  of  his  heart  outside.  But  here 
is  a  double  destmction — the  destruction  of  his  own  life,  and  the  de- 
struction of  all  faith  in  the  ideal  of  temperance. 

Here  is  a  man  who  has  utterly  gone  away  from  virtue  and  chastity. 
It  is  bad  enough,  one  would  think,  for  him,  from  day  to  day,  to  cast 
himself  away  thus;  but  that  is  not  all.  He  says,  "I  do  seek  my 
pleasure  as  I  list;  but  then  do  not  other  people  ?  Talk  about  my  being 
vmjust  ?  Who  is  just  ?  Impure,  am  I  ?  Well,  I  think  I  have  com- 
pany enough  in  this  world.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  anybody  that  is 
pure.  It  is  because  they  cannot,  and  not  because  they  will  not,  that 
they  do  not  run  into  excesses.  Circumstances  may  hinder  them  for  a 
little  while ;  but  there  is  nobody  who  is  not  temptable."  Such  mea 
stand  inveighing  against  the  memoiy  of  their  veiy  mother,  and  whelm- 
ing the  reputation  of  pure  and  noble  sisters,  speaking  sad  words — min- 
gling with  degi-adation  the  veiy  name  of  womanhood.  A  man  who  has 
lost  respect  for  womanhood  in  actual  life  may  be  considei'ed  as  given 
over.  He  is  an  abandoned  wretch.  And  yet,  it  is  not  enough  for 
Bome  men  that  they  follow  their  violent  passions,  and  seek  their  own 
illicit  and  unchaste  and  impure  pleasures ;  but  they  seek  to  hide  the 
degradation,  and  cover  up  the  guilt,  and  cure  the  smart  of  their  con- 
demniuo-  conscience,  by  pulling  down  the  reputation  of  woman,  and 


IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY.  107 

destroying  faith  in  viitue  itself.  "All  men,"  they  say,  "secretly  are 
bad,  and  all  women  too.  They  are  alike."  They  contend  that  eveiy- 
body  is  as  bad  as  they  are.  And  here  is  a  case  in  which  one  should 
say,  "Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar." 

Oh  !  save  something  that  is  true  and  pm-e.  Look  up  at  something 
that  is  higher  than  yourself  Pull  not  down  the  stars,  and  tread  them 
under  yom-  feet.  I  abhor — I  abhor  with  a  loathing  that  grows  with 
my  yeai-s — I  despise  and  detest  with  all  the  divinity  that  is  in  me,  that 
recreant  wretch  who  seeks  to  slime  the  reputation  of  the  true  and  pure 
and  beautiful,  in  order  to  hide  his  own  degradation. 

There  are  those  who  pursue  the  same  course  in  regard  to  probity. 
They  are  not  themselves  truth  speakers  ;  neither  do  they  believe  that 
any  man  does  speak  the  truth.  "If  you  will  follow  that  man  sharply," 
they  say,  "you  Avill  find  that  he  lies  sometimes.  He  is  more  foxy  than 
I  am,  and  he  conceals  a  great  deal.  I  act  right  out  when  I  act  at  all. 
If  I  want  to  lie,  I  lie,  and  I  own  it — after  it  has  accomplished  what  I 
sent  it  for.  There  are  other  men  who  do  not  seem  to  lie ;  but  if  you 
could  only  search  them  you  would  find  that  they  are  as  much  given  to 
lying  as  I  am."  And  so  men,  to  justify  then*  conscious  defection,  im 
pugn  the  integrity  and  veracity  of  all  theu'  fellow  men.  "I  am  a 
swindler,"  says  one.  "I  know  that  I  get  a  living  by  dishonest  prac- 
tices. But  who  does  not  ?  Wherein  am  I  diflferent  from  my  fellow 
men  ?  If  you  gave  them  a  chance,  do  not  you  suppose  they  would 
take  it  ?  If  you  hold  out  a  sixpence  for  a  bait,  some  men  will  bite  at 
it.  But  some  men  will  not,  simply  because  they  want  more.  Bait 
them  with  a  hundi-ed  dollars  and  they  will  bite.  Some  men,  however, 
will  not  take  that  bait;  but  a  thousand  will  catch  them.  There  are 
some  men  who  want  more  than  that ;  but  they  will  take  a  hundi-ed 
thousand.  Some  men  you  could  not  bribe  with  a  hundred  thousand ; 
but  you  could  vnth.  a  million.  There  is  not  a  man  that  gold  will  not 
fetch,  if  you  offer  him  enough  of  it.  Therefore,  in  what  respect  am  I 
different  from  other  men  ?  I  am,  to  be  sure,  dishonest.  I  am  a  jolly 
fellow,  and  I  take  money  where  I  can  get  it,  and  I  own  it ;  and  other 
men  are  just  like  me,  only  they  do  not  own  it."  And  what  does  he 
do  ?  He  destroys  his  own  integrity  and  honor,  and  bows  down  to 
avarice,  and  carries  all  that  is  divine  in  him  underneath  his  lust  for 
gain  ;  and  then,  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  he  turns,  like  the  di-agon, 
and  sweeps  the  stars  with  his  tail  out  of  heaven.  He  destroys  the  veiy 
ideal  of  honesty  by  declaring  that  nobody  is  honest. 

The  young  mai.  that  has  lost  faith  in  honor  and  virtue  and  integrity 
is  himself  lost.  There  is  no  redemption  for  such  a  man  until  you  can 
bring  him  back  to  faith  in  moral  qualities,  and  to  a  belief  in  theu*  ex- 
istence in  his  fellov/  men,  and  in  then  stability  under  powerful  temp 
Nations. 


108  IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY. 

The  same  tendency  may  also  be  traced  in  men's  reasonings  on  tlie 
subject  of  religious  truth.  I  have  shown  that  it  begins  in  early  life  ; 
that  it  runs  through  industrial  forms ;  that  it  finds  its  way  into  social 
relations  ;  that  it  manifests  itself  in  men's  arguments  on  the  subject  of 
vice ;  and  that  it  does  not  stop  short  of,  but  pervades,  even  the  pleas 
by  which  criminals  seek  to  defend  themselves.  And,  going  on  still 
further,  it  afiects  men's  theology,  or  their  philosophy  of  moral  life  and 
conduct.  Men  care  very  little  what  theology  teaches,  provided  it  does 
not  come  home  to  them,  either  as  a  restraint  or  as  a  criterion  of  judg- 
ment. Therefore,  when  the  teaching  of  the  pulpit  is  such,  or  the  state 
of  the  community  is  such,  that  men  do  not  feel  pressed  sharply  by  re- 
ligious influences,  they  give  themselves  no  trouble ;  but  when  they  begin 
to  be  made  uncomfortable  ;  when  ihe  bands  begin  to  draw ;  when  for 
one  or  another  reason  the  pulpit  is  a  power,  and  they  find  it  m  the 
way  of  their  ambition  in  political  matters,  or  in  the  way  of  then*  gain 
in  worldly  matters,  or  in  the  way  of  then-  peace  and  comfort  in  social 
matters,  or  in  the  way  of  their  satisfaction  with  themselves ;  when  the- 
ology begins  to  stu-  them  up,  and  sit  in  judgment  on  them,  then  there 
is  a  strong  tendency  developed  in  them  to  find  fault,  with  the  truth, 
and  to  justify  themselves  by  adopting  a  lower  view ;  or,  as  they  are 
pleased  to  call  it,  "a  more  liberal  view."  It  is  under  such  cu-cum- 
stances  that  God's  sovereignty,  his  absolute  ownershii^,  his  right  to 
command,  his  right  to  administer  truth  and  justice  so  that  they  shall 
search  the  inner  life,  and  take  hold  upon  the  substance  of  being,  is 
questioned,  and  men  begin  to  consider  the  character  of  such  a  God  as 
unlovely,  tyranical,  hard,  and  a  government  springing  from  such  a 
nature  as  a  government  of  rigor.  Yea,  when  the  law  is,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and 
with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thy- 
self," they  say,  "  I  cannot  love  the  Lord  my  God,  whom  I  never  saw, 
with  all  my  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength.  It  is  impossible. 
And  when  I  am  commanded  to  love  my  neighbor  as  myself,  I  am  com- 
manded to  do  that  which  I  cannot  do.  It  is  stretching  matters  unrea- 
Bonably  and  unwarrantably." 

And  so  men  find  fault  with  the  fundamental  principles  of  mora, 
government.  The  exposition  of  human  character,  the  analysis  of  mo- 
tives, all  the  morbid  anatomy  of  the  human  heart,  begins  to  be  ofien 
sive,  and  men  are  not  at  peace  with  themselves,  and  they  charge  the 
blame  upon  other  men,  upon  society,  and  sometimes  even  u])on  the 
divine  government,  and  God  himself  And  under  such  circumstances 
they  go  from  church  to  church,  to  find  a  more  lenient  pulpit,  where 
there  are  more  roses,  and  fewer  thorns ;  where  the  fruit  is  not  so  sour; 
where  the  clusters  are  sweeter;  where  a  more  attractive  view  is  given 
of  the  divine  natm'C. 


IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY.  109 

Tlieu  you  shall  liear  men  saying,  "I  can  never  be  drhcn  by  fear. 
You  may  perhaps  win  me  by  love ;  but  you  cannot  drive  me  b}-  fear." 
And  I  never  knew  a  man  that  set  himself  up  in  this  way,  and  said  that 
he  could  not  be  driven  by  fear,  who  could  be  persuaded  by  anytliing. 
Such  a  man  is  just  as  impervious  to  honor  as  to  fear.  He  is  just  as 
well  armed  against  the  persuasions  of  conscience  as  he  is  against  the 
persuasions  of  fear.  Faith  and  hope  cannot  persuade  him.  I.ove  can- 
not di-aw  him.  Authority  cannot  daunt  him.  He  is  immovable  and 
adamantine  in  the  absolute  obstinacy  of  his  depravity.  Men  would 
rather  quarrel  with  then-  doctrine,  quarrel  with  their  belief,  quarrel 
with  their  God,  than  to  quarrel  with  themselves,  and  be  under  self- 
condemnation. 

This  passage,  then,  which  at  first  seems  to  be  a  harsh  one,  when 
you  come  to  carry  it  out  in  all  its  philosophical  relations,  reveals  a  ten- 
dency which  is  universal  among  men — namely,  the  tendency  of  a  man's 
conscience  to  quarrel  with  the  standard  of  duty,  with  the  ideal  of  recti 
tude,  rather  than  repent  of  the  sins  which  that  standard  and  that  ideal 
have  convicted  him  of,  and  outgrow  his  littleness  and  wickedness. 

Now,  the  destruction  of  ideal  standards  is  utterly  ruinous  to  our 
manhood.  What  is  an  ideal  ?  The  word  is  often  used,  and  might  be 
used  still  more  often.  An  ideal  is  a  percej)tion  of  something  higher 
and  better  than  we  have  reached,  either  in  single  actions,  or  in  our  life 
and  character.  It  may  relate  to  single  acts.  An  artist  has  an  ideal 
picture  when  he  is  painti-ng  a  real  picture.  Woe  be  to  the  man  whose 
painting  surprises  him  by  being  better  than  he  thought !  He  must 
have  thought  very  vulgarly.  There  is  that  prophetic  gift  in  every 
soul  of  any  elevation  by  which  there  hangs  over  every  stejD  a  vision  of 
something  higher,  and  better,  and  nobler,  and  sweeter  and  purer. 
Every  man  who  is  really  and  fully  organized  on  a  noble  pattern,  has 
hovering  over  liim  a  vision  of  angels  transcendeutly  more  beautiful 
than  any  embodiment  of  it.  He  has  conceptions  of  truth  infinitely  more 
grand  than  any  exhibitions  of  truth  which  he  sees  on  earth.  Beauty 
flames  in  the  heavens  with  colors  blighter  than  any  that  can  be  repro- 
duced in  this  world.  How  do  they  who  attempt  to  fulfill  the  offices 
of  friendship  find  every  day  that  they  sit  in  judgment  upon  themselves 
because  they  have  not  half  way  come  up  to  their  conception  of  its  pa- 
tience, of  its  disinterestedness,  of  its  gentleness,  of  its  faithfulness  ! 

Do  I  need  to  ask  you  what  your  ideal  is,  ye  that  have  souglit  in  a 
thousand  ways  to  reach  that  very  conception?  The  nuisician  is 
charmed  with  the  song  that  in  his  imagination  he  seems  to  hear  angels 
sing ;  but  when  he  attempts  to  write  it  down  whh  his  hands  he  curses 
the  blundering  rudeness  of  material  things,  by  which  he  cannot  incai'- 
uate  so  sphitual  a  thing  as  his  thought.     It  is  all  torn  ■,  it  is  stripped 


no  IDEAL  STANDARD  OF  DUTY. 

of  its  plumage,  as  it  were,  and  reduced  to  captivity.  The  true  orator 
is  a  man  whose  unspoken  speech  is  a  thousand  times  better  than  his 
utterance.  The  true  artist  is  not  a  man  who  can  look  upon  the  thing 
which  he  has  colored  and  say,  "  It  transcends  what  I  saw,"  but  a  man 
who  says,  "Oh !  if  you  could  see  what  I  saw  when  I  first  tried  to  make 
this,  you  would  think  this  most  homely."  This  excelsior  of  every  soul ; 
this  sense  of  something  finer,  and  nobler,  and  truer,  and  better — so 
long  as  this  lasts  a  man  can  scarcely  go  down  to  vulgarism.  So  long 
as  this  lasts  there  is  in  every  man  a  nascent  inspu-ation  which  tends  to 
look  away  from  self — which  certainly  does  not  mcline  a  man  to  meas- 
are  himself  by  his  fellow  men.  It  is  vulgar  for  a  man  to  be  satisfied 
with  himself  because  he  is  better  than  his  fellow  men.  Every  man 
ishould  have  something  outside  of  himself,  and  outside  of  his  fellow 
men,  by  which  to  measure  himself  Every  smgle  day  should  be  a  day 
to  you  of  royal  discontent.  You  never  thought  as  well  as  you  ought 
to  think.  You  never  meant  as  highly  as  you  ought  to  mean.  You 
never  planned  as  nobly  as  you  ought  to  plan.  You  never  executed  as 
well  as  you  ought  to  execute.  Over  the  production  of  the  scholar, 
over  the  canvas  of  the  artist,  over  the  task  of  the  landscape  gardenei', 
over  the  pruner's  knife,  there  ought  to  hover,  2)erpetually,  his  blessed 
ideal,  telling  hijn,  "  Your  work  is  poor — it  should  be  better  ;"  so  that 
£very  day  he  should  lift  himself  higher  and  higher,  with  an  everlasting 
pursuit  of  hope  which  shall  only  end  in  perfection  when  he  reaches 
the  land  beyond. 

But  what  if  some  mephitic  gas  shall  extinguish  this  candle  of 
God  which  casts  its  light  down  on  our  path,  to  guide  us,  and  du-ect 
Dur  couise  upward?  What  if  clouds  sway  round  it,  and  hide  it? 
What  if  the  breath  of  man,  for  whom  it  was  sent,  shall  blow  it  out, 
,md  he  be  left  in  darkness  through  the  vast  ether,  and  doomed  to  puzzle 
and  grope  his  way,  and  sink  down  toward  the  beast  that  perishes  ? 
Woe  be  to  that  man  whose  ideal  in  ait,  and  literature,  and  friendshi]), 
md  honor,  and  morality,  and  religion,  in  the  whole  sphere  of  life,  has 
^one  out  and  left  him  to  the  vulgar  level  of  common  life,  without 
jpring,  without  upward  motive,  without  aspiration.  That  is  vulgarity 
indeed.  They  are  not  vulgar  who  wear  poor  clothes ;  they  are  not 
rulgar  who  have  open  windows  at  their  elbows ;  they  are  not  vulgar 
\  ft'ho  wear  gaping  shoes;  they  are  not  vulgar  who  delve  in  the  dut,  or 
^  labor  in  the  quarry,  or  toil  in  the  colliery,  or  stand  at  the  smith's  anvU, 
and  are  besmutted ;  they  are  not  vulgar  who  do  common  tMngs,  and 
work  with  the  hands.  They  who  walk  in  silk,  and  have  no  aspiration, 
are  vulgar.  They  that  shine  like  silver  and  gold,  but  have  no  ambi- 
tion for  anything  nobler  and  better,  are  vulgar.  What  wine  is,  which 
has  stood  uncorked,  and  lost  all  its  bubbling  gas  and  snap  and  life,  that 


IDEAL  STAND  ABB  Ot-  DUTY,  111 

is  a  man  who  has  lost  all  that  which  should  make  him  foam  and  effer- 
vesce. A  man  who  has  come  to  be  content — what  is  he  worth,  more 
than  a  cake  not  tm-ncd,  bm-nt  on  one  side,  and  dough  on  the  other, 
and  good  for  nothing  either  way  ? 

And  yet,  that  which  our  text  reveals,  and  revealing  condemns,  is 
universal  (more  in  some  chcumstances  than  in  others,  and  more  with 
certain  natures  than  with  others) — namely,  the  attempt  of  men  to  find 
fault  with  law,  or  witli  God,  the  fountain  of  law,  to  find  fault  with  the 
ideal  of  rectitude,  to  put  out  that  ideal  which  raises  them  above  the 
crawUng  worms  and  hopping  beasts  of  the  earth,  rather  than  find  fault 
with  themselves.     Nay,  "Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man  a  liar." 

Ai"e  there  none  in  this  congregation  who  have  found  themselves 
limned  and  described  in  this  discom-se?     I  know  many  of  you  feel 
that  there  is  truth  in  what  I  have  said  to-night.     It  touches  a  chord  of 
yom-  own  experience.     You  know  that  the  tendency  is  to  degrade  and 
lower  the  standard  of  duty  for  the  sake  of  relatively  elevating  yom- 
selves  in  yom-  own  regai-d.     And  ai'e  there  not  some  here  who  need 
special  application  of  this  matter  to  them  ?     Ai-e  there  not  many  of 
you  who  have  departed  from  the  faith  of  yom-  fathers,  not  following  a 
true  moral  impulse,  not  following  a  real  life,  not  enlarging  yom'  re- 
ligious experience,  but  seeking  and  hungering  after  a  nobler  govern- 
ment and  a  nobler  God  than  has  been  taught  you  ?     Are  there  not 
many  of  you  who  have  found  the  faith  of  your  childhood  inconvenient, 
because  it  would  not  permit  you  to  run  in  the  ways  of  tlu-ift,  and  who 
have  sought  another  faith?     Are  there  not  many  of  you  who  have 
found  your  early  faith  a  self-restramt,  and  a  hinderance  to  you  in  yom* 
career  of  pleasure?     Are  there  not  many  of  you  who  have  put  away 
your  Bibles  because  you  found  that  they  stood  in  the  way  of  your  de- 
gTadation  ?     Have  you  not  laid  religion  aside  so  as  not  to  be  tormented  ? 
Have  you  not  forsaken  the  house  of  God?     Ai-e  there  not  men  here 
to-night  who  can  say,  "Till  I  was  of  age,  the  Sabbath  was  a  day  of 
devotion  to  me ;  but  since  I  came  down  to  the  gi-eat  city,  and  learned 
the  ways  of  life,  I  have  scarcely  for  ten  years  been  inside  of  the  house 
of  God."     "Why  have  you  ceased  to  be  a  reader  of  the  Bible  ?     Why 
have  you  ceased  to  pray  ?     Why  have  you  ceased  to  frequent  the  ways 
of  God's  people  ?     Is  it  not,  if  you  search  the  matter  to  the  bottom, 
because  these  things  stood  in  the  way  of  your  own  self-seeking,  and 
because,  with  them,  you  could  not  be  as  proud  and  selfish  and  grasp- 
ing  as  you  wanted  to  be,  and  could  not  seek  sensuous  enjoyment  aa 
much  as  you  wanted,  and  could  not  give  way  to  self-indulgence  and 
follow  illicit  and  disallowed  ways  as  much  as  you  would  ?     And  did 
not  you  give  up  your  faith,  or  bury  it,  for  the  time  being,  just  because 
yom-  guilty,  wicked,  corrupt  heart  felt  the  ghd  of  God's  law,  and  you 


112  IDEAL  STANDARD  OF  D  UT  T. 

did  not  mean  to  be  restrained,  and  you  sought,  as  it  were,  to  dethrone 
God?  You  have  shut  up  youi*  Bible,  and  very  likely  learned  the  lore 
of  infivlelity,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  keep  down  the  mutterings  of 
your  own  conscience.  You  have. been  unfaithful  to  your  early  convic- 
tions ;  you  have  been  I'ecreant  to  the  dictates  of  your  best  judgment 
and  conscience ;  you  have  disregarded  your  sense  of  honor ;  you  have 
vulgarized  j'oui'self,  and  degraded  yourself,  and  put  out  the  light  of 
yom-  ideal ;  and  you  are  makmg  yom-  whole  life  carnal,  sensual  and 
devilish. 

Now,  I  call  you  to  judgment  with  yourself.  You  know  that  you 
are  wrong.  You  know  that  such  a  course  as  this  is  not  simply  wrong, 
but  meanly  wi'ong.  More  than  that,  you  know  it  is  a  wi'ong  that  can- 
not end  in  other  than  destruction  and  degradation  forever. 

There  are  many  who  have  pursued  a  course  which  in  the  beginning 
seemed  right  to  them,  but  which  has  proved  to  be  wrong.  The  de- 
flection was  slight  at  first,  the  incij^ient  wrong  was  deceptive,  and  they 
went  on  step  by  step,  and  became  involved;  and  at  last  are  entangled 
beyond  hope  of  release.  How  many  of  you  have  found  your  moral 
sense  so  perverted  that  sins  are  not  the  same  to  you  that  they  once 
were !  Not  only  religion  but  morality  has  gone  from  some  of  you. 
You  maintain  its  forms,  because  that  is  a  necessary  condition  of  living 
in  society  at  all.  It  is  thus  that  you  pay  respect  to  the  conscience  of 
the  community.  But  inwardly  many  of  you  have  foresworn  faith,  even 
in  moral  quahties  in  dealing  between  man  and  man. 

K  God  should  light  the  candle  of  research  and  go  into  yom-  hearts, 
what  revelations  there  would  be  !  Every  now  and  then  there  comes 
some  astounding  revelation  which  startles  the  community.  But  there 
are  many  other  revelations  that  are  not  made  so  public,  where  they  re- 
main silent,  as  they  should,  in  the  pastor's  knowledge.  Young  men 
reveal  then-  career  to  me.  One  young  man  is  brought  to  the  brink  of 
trouble,  and  is  seeking  relief.  Another  young  man  is  asking  his  way 
back  from  ways  of  vice.  Another  young  man  is  in  despau-  lest  he  is 
ah-eady  beyond  the  reach  of  help.  And  the  opening  of  these  doors  of 
confession  shows  how  much  there  is  of  falling  into  temptation.  And 
I  cannot  but  feel  solemn  when  I  stand  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  among 
so  many  young  adventurers ;  among  so  many  that  have  taken  then-  life 
in  then-  hands  and  embarked  for  time  and  eternity,  and  whose  Avelfai-e 
is  as  dear  to  me  as  if  they  were  mine.  I  am  a  father,  and  I  have  sent 
out  barks  to  be  navigated — my  own  childi-en.  I  know  that  the  ocean 
is  infinite,  eternal,  unfathomable.  They  pait  from  me  on  this  shore, 
and  land  on  that,  where  the  wave  touches  the  kingdom  of  God,  or  the 
region  of  everlasting  despair.  And  I  know  what  it  is  to  yeai'n  for  ray 
childi-en,  though  God  has  greatly  blessed  me  in  that  they  have  gone 


IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  D  UTY.  113 

right.  But  I  feel  as  a  father  feels  toward  his  o^m  children,  towai'd 
many  of  you.  I  know  there  are  many  here  who  have  no  father  to  pray 
for  them.  I  remember,  every  Sabbath  day,  when  I  look  into  your 
faces,  that  I  stand  as  it  were  in  the  place  of  father,  and  mother,  and 
brother  and  friend  to  you.  You  have  no  counsellor,  many  ol  you. 
They  that  naturally  would  advise  you  are  far  from  you.  And  I  cannot 
but  speak  to  you.  And  though  I  speak  to  you  in  severity  sometimes, 
and  in  warning  often,  it  is  the  warning  of  a  friend  who  often  bears  you 
before  God  in  prayer.  , 

Ai-e  there  not  many  of  you  who,  for  the  sake  of  self-indulgence, 
have  gone  wi'ong  in  things  which,  if  they  were  brought  to  light,  would 
be  like  the  day  of  judgment  flaming  before  your  eyes?  Ai-e  there  not 
many  of  you  who  are  losing  your  faith  in  essential  moral  manhood, 
because  it  is  easier  for  you  to  disbelieve  in  right  and  honor  and  recti- 
tude than  to  say  to  yom'selves,  "I  am  a  culprit;  I  am  a  thief;  I  am  a 
liar  ?  "  Oh !  call  yourselves  anything ;  sit  in  judgment  on  yourselves, 
rather  than  let  there  arise  from  your  heart  the  clouds  and  miasmas 
that  shall  i)ut  out  yom*  belief  m  these  higher  elements,  and  in  the  safety 
of  them.  Though  you  perish,  save  yom-  faith.  Die,  at  last,  believing 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  truth ;  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  recti- 
,  tude ;  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  vu'tue ;  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
God,  such  a  thing  as  heaven,  and  such  a  thing  as  blessedness.  "With 
yoar  own  destruction  do  not  wreck  the  universe,  and  Avipe  out  all  fliith 
and  hope.  That  would  be  destruction  indeed.  And  yet,  you  are  steer- 
ing right  toward  it.  You  are  borne  on  a  current  that  has  wrecked 
thousands  in  this  way.  Beware !  "  Let  God  be  true,  but  every  man 
a  liai-." 

Oh!  why  not  take  counsel  of  yom*  better  thoughts?  Why  not 
take  counsel  of  yom-  own  blessed  hours  ?  Even  the  lion  sports  with 
the  kid  before  he  destroys  it.  The  cat  that  has  caught  the  mouse  plays 
with  it  as  if  she  were  its  own  mother  before  she  devours  it.  And  the 
most  infernal  habits  paw  theii-  victims  at  times,  and  give  them  some 
space  to  run  in  before  completing  then-  destruction.  I  have  seen  nim- 
ble mice  that  were  wiser  than  then-  tyrant  cat,  and  that,  taking  advant- 
age of  tlieii-  little  space,  shot  into  some  crevice,  and  away,  to  the  disai> 
pointment  and  chagrin  of  grimalkin.  And  are  there  not  some  here 
who  have  intervals,  moments,  when  temptation  plays  them,  and  ]et3 
them  go  free?  Shoot!  fly!  in  those  lucid  moments,  from  besetting 
gins.  If  the  cord  is  once  loosened,  let  it  not  come  on  again.  For  your 
soul's  sake,  for  heaven's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  glory  and  honor  and  im- 
mortality, risk  every  tiling.  Put  not  yom-  hands  in  the  gyves  and 
shackles. 

This  is   solemn,   day-of-judgment  business.      We  are  going  fast 


114  IDEAL  STANDARDS  OF  DUTY 

thi-ough  life.  There  is  little  left  to  any  of  us,  and  to  most  of  us  less 
than  we  think.  Ye  that  to-day  are  triumphant  in  full  health,  stand  on 
the  verge  of  the  grave.  Your  fate  is  only  suspended.  And  I  beseech 
of  you,  while  tender  thoughts  are  upon  you,  while  hope  is  yet  before 
you,  and  while  the  reasonableness  of  my  exhortation  approves  itself  to 
every  one  of  you,  see  to  it  that  you  do  not  give  up  your  faith.  See  to 
it  that  you  believe  in  God,  in  truth,  in  integrity,  and  in  vulue  ;  that  yoxi 
maintain  the  law  of  these  things  as  the  rule  of  your  conduct.  Con- 
demn yourselves ;  bow  down  yourselves  in  shame  if  you  are  transgres- 
sors; correct  youi-life;  but  do  not  destroy  your  belief  "iei  God  he 
true,  hut  every  man  a  liar." 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

Thou  gracious  God,  Father  of  our  spirits,  we  draw  near  to  thee  this  evening,  in  the 
confidence  of  children.  We  have  often  come  unworthily;  and  yet,  even  then  thy  be- 
nignity has  blessed  us.  Thou  dost  not  measure  our  gifts  by  our  deserts,  or  long  ago  we 
should  have  perished.  Thou  dost  take  thy  measures  from  thine  own  generous  nature. 
Thou  art  generous  in  overmeasure.  Thou  wilt  have  mercy.  Thy  heart  is  our  hope  and 
our  joy.  For,  when  we  look  upon  ourselves,  upon  our  poor  and  diminished  estate,  upon  our 
shrunk  and  miserable  nature,  what  is  there  in  us  that  should  draw  thine  eye  of  regard? 
We  are  lower  than  thou  art.  "We  are  further  removed  from  thee  than  the  worms  are 
from  us;  for  they  keep  their  estate,  and  come  to  the  fulness  of  their  being,  and  do  not 
err  on  the  right  hand  nor  on  the  left.  But  we,  endowed  moi-o  royall}- — yea,  with  the 
nature  of  God — have  employed  its  forces  and  its  powers  to  carry  ourselves  every  whither 
in  imperfection,  and  have  given  way  to  our  passions  and  appetites,  and  to  every  vagrant 
imagination,  and  wandered  into  selfishness  and  pride,  and  have  destroyed  ourselves  by 
the  very  nobility  of  our  powers;  by  all  that  was  strong  and  wide-reaching;  by  all  that 
had  in  it  elevation.  Wo  have  sought  to  make  ourselves  sovereign,  and  to  separate  our- 
selves one  from  another,  and  to  surpass  each  other,  and  to  build  here  our  homes,  and 
forgot  the  immortal  and  heavenly  inheritance,  and  struck  the  music  of  earthly  desire. 
And  thou  hast  seen  how  we  have  perverted  all  the  parts  of  our  being,  and  how  far  we 
are  from  grace  and  from  God.  And  yet,  while  we  were  thus  in  darkness  and  disobedi- 
ence and  perversion,  and  before  we  wished  to  leave  them — before  aspiration  came  to  us — 
thou  didst  have  compassion.  For  it  was  thy  sun  that  melted  the  snow  that  lay  heavily. 
It  was  thy  sun  that  sought  the  root  that  was  asleep  beneath  the  ground.  It  was  thine 
eye  that  was  the  summer  of  the  world,  and  thou  didst  bring  forth,  in  glorious  recreation, 
all  sweet  and  pleasant  things.  And  we  love  thee  because  thou  didst  first  love  us.  It 
"was  thy  love  that  taught  us  to  aspire  and  to  love.  And  now,  though  wo  are  far  from 
thee,  and  languid  in  every  holy  desire;  though  we  are  full  of  impert'ections;  though  wo 
requite  the  utmost  generosity  with  abased  selfishuess,  and  though  thy  faithfulness  is 
met  by  our  forgctfulness  every  day;  yet  thou  art  constant,  blessed  bo  thy  name.  Thou 
art  drawing  us  to  some  thought  of  constancy.  Our  desires  come  thicker  and  faster  for 
a  noble  character.  We  begin  to  desire  more  and  more  the  heavenly  inheritance.  More 
and  more  we  are  seeking  to  follow  thee,  even  though  we  bear  the  cross  to  do  it.  We 
are  beginning  to  know  the  nobility  of  sorrow.  We  arc  beginning  to  taste  how  sweet  is 
bitter.  We  are  beginning  to  know  that  our  lost  life  is  the  only  life  saved.  We  are  be- 
ginning to  find  out  how  humility  is  exaltation,  and  how  when  we  are  empty  we  are  filled 
with  all  the  fullness  of  God. 


IDEAL  STAND ABDS  OF  DUTY.  115 

Grant,  -n-e  besoecli  of  theo,  that  those,  the  fruits  of  thy  faithfulness,  may  abound 
more  and  moro.  May  the  life  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus  be  breathed  upon  us;  and  may 
wo  become  like  him  in  all  gentlenss;  in  all  sweetness  of  life;  in  all  hope  and  aspiration; 
in  all  patience;  in  all  faithfulness  to  each  other;  in  all  true  affection.  And  grant,  we 
beseech  of  thee,  that  wo  may  walk  as  strangers  and  pilgrims,  even  in  the  midst  of  our 
best  estate.  May  wo  feel  that  heaven  is  intinitely  better  than  the  best  earthly  things, 
and  that  these  are  but  as  a  harness.  May  we  not  seek  our  good  here.  May  we  not  seek 
to  have  our  inheritance  now.  Give  us  that  treasure  laid  up  in  heaven  where  moth  and 
rust  do  not  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  and  steal. 

Grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  each  one  in  thy  presence,  according  to  his  special 
need.  Look  iuto  the  heart  of  every  one.  Know  the  sorrows  and  the  necessities  of  each. 
Grant  that  every  one  may  feel  that  the  Spirit  is  by  his  side.  May  that  divine  and  sanc- 
tifying influence,  which  is  the  comfort  of  our  life,  be  granted  unto  each,  according  to 
tho  need  and  according  to  the  providence  under  which  he  hath  come  hither. 

Look,  we  beseech  of  thee,  upon  all  the  laborers  in  thy  cause,  and  upon  all  thy 
Churches,  of  every  name.  And  may  those  greater  things  in  which  they  agree  unite  them 
more  and  more;  and  may  those  things  about  which  they  differ,  and  which  divide  and  vex 
and  harrass,  be  taken  quite  out  of  the  way. 

We  pray  that  thy  kingdom  may  come  in  all  forms  of  law,  and  of  intelligence,  and  of 
justice,  and  of  civil  administration,  and  of  human  liberty,  and  of  universal  civilization, 
and  may  the  world,  redeemed  from  its  animal  conditions,  at  last  become  thy  world.  A 
new  heaven,  and  a  new  earth  let  there  be,  in  which  shall  dwell  righteousness. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  add  thy  blessing  to  tho  word  that  has 
been  spoken.  By  thy  mighty  Spirit  draw  forth  men  from  their  entanglements— from  the 
bewilderments  of  the  wilderness.  O  thou  God  and  Shepherd,  save  the  imperiled  little 
ones.  Bring  them  back  in  thine  arms.  Seek  the  wandering  and  the  reckless.  Brino' 
them  back  to  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  their  souls. 

We  pray  that  the  word  of  truth  may  not  be  in  vain.  As  rain  on  good  ground,  and 
aa  seed  sown  therein,  may  it  be  to  thine  honor  and  glory. 

We  ask  it  through  Christ  our  Redeemer.    Amen. 


VIII. 

Faults, 


INVOCATION. 

Dear  Father,  thou  hast  made  thy  name  honorable  in  all  the  earth. 
We  come,  this  morning,  not  as  foreigners,  speaking  a  tongue  unknown 
to  our  Father ;  we  come  not  as  strangers ;  we  come  not  as  servants. 
Thou  hast  called  ns friends.  Thou  hast  inspired  us  with  love.  We  bring 
back  to  thee  that  which  thou  hast  kindled ;  and  because  it  is  little  and  im- 
perfect thou  wilt  not  despise  it.  For  thou  art  gracious,  and  gentle,  and 
generous,  and  sweet-minded,  and  full  of  sympathy  and  tenderness  for  the 
■poor,  for  the  needy,  for  the  imperfect,  and  for  the  sinful.  And  thou  dost 
cast  all  thy  royalty  around  about  those  who  are  but  beggars  in  themselves, 
and  lend  thine  own  excellence  to  them  that  they  may  be  lifted  up  in  thy 
wisdom.  So  we  come  with  full  faith,  not  in  ourselves,  but  in  the  grandeur 
and  graciousness  of  thy  nature,  to  ask  thy  blessing — to  ask  all  things.  Do 
by  us  what  thy  sun  doth  by  all  the  earth,  going  forth  in  the  greatness  of 
his  power,  and  rearing  uj)  aroimd  the  globe  innumerable  things  of  beauty 
and  use.  By  the  Holy  Ghost  shine  summer  into  us,  and  bring  forth  all 
sweet  and  pleasant  plants  of  righteousness.  Accept  our  praises  to-day. 
Commune  with  us  in  prayer.  Give  us  fellowship,  not  alone  of  sympathy, 
but  of  song,  one  with  another.  Make  this  church  as  the  gate  of  heaven, 
and  send  us  all  away  wiser  and  more  heavenly-minded  than  we  come.  We 
ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


FAULTS. 


It 


'  CoDfesB  your  faults  one  to  another  and  pray  one  for  another."— James,  V.  18. 


Nothing  can  be  fui'ther  from  that  discreet  good  sense  which  per- 
vades the  New  Testament,  than  to  inculcate  a  habit  of  tattling  about 
one's  self.  It  is  extremely  repulsive  to  have  one  naiTate  his  sicknesses 
and  ailments  of  body  ;  and  hardly  less  so  his  faults  of  disposition,  of 
conduct,  and  of  nature.  There  is  a  reserve  in  this  matter  which  be- 
longs to  true  delicacy  and  modesty,  and  so  to  wisdom.  James  encom-- 
ages  no  such  gossip  about  one's  self.  Yet  we  are  commanded  to  con- 
fess our  faults.  Confess  here  is  equivalent  to  admit.  We  are  to  ad- 
mit them  when  they  occur,  and  when  they  are  chai-ged  upon  us.  When, 
as  is  usually  the  case,  there  is  a  question  between  us  and  others,  we  are 
to  admit  om'selves  to  be  in  the  wrong,  we  are  to  acknowledge  our 
faults. 

We  shall  attempt  to  show  the  natm-e  of  faults,  thek  effects,  and  the 
duty  and  reasons  of  confessing  them. 

I.  The  term  fault  in  scriptm-e  is  frequently  employed  as  synony- 
mous with  sin.  It  also  has  a  special  sense,  and  relates  to  small  sins. 
This  meaning  has  become  fastened  to  the  word  in  modem  usage  ;  so 
that  unless  it  is  qualified  by  some  circumstance  in  the  text,  we  always 
understand  the  tQxia  fault,  applied  to  human  conduct,  to  mean  an 
infelicity,  an  infirmity,  a  foible,  a  small  evil ;  and  we  are  accustomed  to 
mark  a  clear  and  sharp  distinction  between  sins,  in  all  their  specifications, 
and  simple  faults.     They  ai'e  of  a  lower  moral  gi'ade. 

Just  such  a  term  is  needed.  There  is,  in  fact,  just  that  discrimina  • 
tion  to  be  made  between  gi-ave  sins  and  minor  infeliciiies.  This  dis- 
tinction represents  the  yet  universal  imperfection  of  man's  nature  in  all 
iis  parts — the  crudeness  of  his  judgment,  and  the  unskilfullness  of  his 
handling  of  himself. 

There  may  be  a  perversion  of  the  intellect,  there  may  be  a  wanton 

Sunday  Moendjo,  Oct.  31,  1869.— Lebson  :  James  V.  Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection)! 

WOB.  255,  668,  1237. 


118"  FAULTS. 

misuse  of  it,  that  we  should  call  sinning ;  or  there  may  be  an  imper- 
fect or  j)Oor  use  of  it,  which  we  should  call  faulty.  There  are  sins 
and  vices  and  crimes  developed  from  the  human  passions  ;  but  then, 
the  human  passions  may  be  guilty  only  of  infelicities  of  appetite,  of 
yearnings,  of  mmor  discords.  Faults  represent  the  unconscious  imper- 
fections of  moral  conduct — the  ten  thousand  little  sins  of  daily  life 
which  do  not  argue  intentional  wiong,  and  which  yet  are  annoying 
and  mischievous. 

Faults  in  this  point  of  view  belong  to  every  part  of  a  man's  nature 
and  to  every  portion  of  his  conduct — to  the  tongue,  to  the  hand,  to  the 
temper,  to  the  reason,  to  the  conscience,  to  every  aifection,  and  to  ever^ 
sentiment.  There  is  no  one  part  of  a  man's  nature  that  is  without 
fault ;  and  no  man  can  carry  himself  through  a  single  day  without  faults* 
multitudinous.  They  are  the  signs  and  tokens  of  men's  universal  mi- 
perfection.  They  are  called  failings  sometimes,  when  they  result 
from  weakness.  Over-actions  and  excesses  they  are  on  the  other  side. 
They  are  now  the  result  of  excessive  activity  ;  but  then,  by-and-by,  of 
feebleness  in  action.  Too  much  blood  beating  in  the  passions  forces 
them  to  insobriety.  Too  little  fire  in  them,  and  they  fail  to  generate 
that  steam  by  which  life  is  kept  in  Vigorous  motion  ;  and  the  too  much 
and  too  little  are  alike  faults,  unless  they  go  on  to  something  more 
grave  and  serious.  The  just  enough  and  not  too  much  are  very  hard, 
however,  to  find.  Human  feelings  are  like  the  mercury  in  the  barome- 
ter, changing  to  the  variations  of  pressure,  through  every  hour,  or 
like  the  mercury  in  the  thermometer,  varying  according  to  the  quanti- 
ty of  heat  in  the  atmosphere,  and  never  long  stationary.  We  carry 
a  mind  so  subtle  and  sensitive  that  it  is  perpetually  changing  and  va 
lying. 

If  one  considers  how  much  every  man  has  to  carry  along — his 
equipments  ;  his  intellectual  fiiculties  ;  his  moral  sentiments  ;  his  afiec- 
tions ;  his  passions  and  appetites ;  and  all  of  them  afilliated  with  the 
body,  afiecting  it,  and  being  themselves  afiected  by  it ;  if  one  consid- 
ers how  large  is  that  battalion  which  has  been  enlisted  in  him  ;  if  one 
considers  how  sensitive  the  human  soul  is  to  influences ;  and  if  one 
considers  in  the  midst  of  what  whu-ling  excitements  he  is  carrying 
himself  in  the  experience  of  the  household,  in  the  strifes  of  business, 
or  in  the  heat  of  public  life,  he  will  not  wonder  that  no  man  keeps  his 
exact  equipoise,  and  that,  quite  aside  from  downright  sins,  life  swarms 
with  faults. 

There  are  two  extremes  of  opinion  respecting  faults.  The  one 
regards  them  with  an  excessive,  uncharitable  emphasis  of  blame.  The 
other  sometimes  utterly  ignores  them,  and  sometimes  ostentatiously 
undei*values   them,  as  factors  of  moral   results.      Either  extreme  is 


FAULTS,  119 

wrong.  Faults  are  not  sins,  necessarily,  thong  A  they  breed  sins; 
and  yet,  they  are  not  harmless.  There  is  gi-eat  danger  in  them, 
and  great  mischief  in  them,  and  great  misery  in  them.  They  should 
therefore  be  studied,  outgrown,  corrected.  It  is  to  help  you  in  this 
regard  that  I  shall  open  the  subject  further  this  morning. 

II.  Let  us  consider  the  effects,  upon  human  life  and  character,  of 
faults — not  of  grave  mistakes ;  not  of  great  sins  of  the  strong  arm  and 
nimble  foot ;  but  those  ten  thousand  little  things  that  men  do  which 
are  not  just  right,  which  they  themselves  could  wish  they  had  not 
done,  and  which  everybody  else  could  wish  they  had  not  done,  but 
which  are  passed  by,  and  of  which  it  is  said,  "These  are  their  weak- 
nesses." We  say,  by  way  of  excusing  them,  "We  all  have  our  faults." 
And  so  we  brush  them  away. 

There  is  a  right  charity  on  this  subject ;  but  it  is  wiser  for  each  of 
us  to  take  heed  to  our  faults.     For, 

First,  Faults  are  often  stepping-stones  to  heinous  sins.  They  go 
before  and  prepare  the  way.  They  tend  to  dull  moral  sensibility. 
They  tend  to  make  us  self-indulgent,  negligent  and  cai-eless  in  regard 
to  perfectness  of  thought,  and  feeling,  and  conduct.  By  so  much  as  we 
foil  to  reach  it,  we  should  cling  to  it  as  an  ideal  all  the  more  tenaciously. 
This  is  especially  true  of  faults  in  the  du-ection  of  the  moral  senti- 
ments. A  very  slight  carelessness  in  truth-telling  will  lead  by-and-by  to 
the  gravest  temptations  towards  falsehood.  This  is  the  reason  that  the 
Master  says,  "  He  that  is  faithful  m  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful  also 
in  much."  Small  faults  are  baits  and  toles  to  draw  men  up  to  greater 
ones,  so  that  thek  mischief  is  not  measured  by  theii-  own  diameter, 
but  by  that  which  they  lead  to. 

Foohsh  birds  are  the  turkeys,  that  never  lift  up  their  heads  when 
they  are  feeding,  and  never  let  them  down  when  they  are  not.  So,  in  the 
West,  men  are  accustomed  to  select  a  sort  of  slope,  or  side  hill,  and  cut 
a  little  channel,  or  path,  and  surround  it  with  a  kind  of  rail  fence, 
without  roof  or  any  protection.  Along  this  path  they  strew  corn — 
which  is  very  good.  Corn  per  se  is  excellent  for  turkeys.  And  the 
wild  turkeys  come  in  flocks  and  pick  up  the  corn,  following  the  path, 
and  do  not  look  up  to  see  where  they  are  being  led  to  till  they  have 
passed  under  the  lower  rail,  and  got  into  the  enclosure ;  and  then,  there 
being,  no  corn  there,  they  lift  up  their  heads,  and  see  where  they  are. 
They  cannot  fly  over  the  fence  (a  turkey  cannot  rise  on  his  wings  unless 
be  has  a  chance  to  run),  and  they  cannot  get  out  unless  they  lower  then- 
heads,  and  that  they  will  not  do  ;  and  so  they  are  caught.  The  corn  is 
not  bad  in  itself,  but  see  what  it  leads  to.  It  is  strewn  along  the  way 
to  a  pen  purposely  devised  to  catch  the  fool  turkeys,  and  they,  picking 
it  up,  are  caught. 


120  FAULTS. 

Of  thousands  of  faults  men  say,  "  This  is  not  much."  No,  it  is  not 
mucli ;  but  it  is  laid  along  your  path  in  such  a  way  that  the  first  thing 
you  know  you  will  find  yourself  suiTOunded  by  a  pen  of  dishonesty 
from  which  you  cannot  creep  nor  fly  out.  Faults  are  toles  which  lead 
to  things  that  are  worse. 

A  veiy  wide  space  of  uncertainty  lies  between  honesty  and  dishon- 
esty. We  ought  not  to  say  that  hregularity,  or  carelessness,  or  a  cer- 
tain obtuseness  of  honor,  is  dishonesty.  I  hear  men  in  the  street  say, 
*'  I  do  not  suppose  that  man  to  be  dishonest ;  but  his  sense  of  honor 
allows  him  to  do  what  I  never  could  do."  Irregularity,  carelessness, 
and  a  low  sense  of  honor  may  not  themselves  be  sins  ;  but  they  may 
lead  men  into  that  region  where  sins  will  be  inevitable.  And  the  fault, 
whatever  it  may  be  in  itself,  is  very  dangerous  on  account  of  that  which 
it  leads  to. 

There  is  a  little  gipsey  gu*l  in  the  old  castle,  and  some  one  says  to 
the  lord,  "You  have  an  enemy  there."  "  What!  that  little  gipsey  ghl  f 
says  the  lord,  "  what  can  she  do  ?  Here  am  I  with  my  armed  men  ; 
and  every  gate  and  door  and  window  is  bolted  and  barred.  I  guess 
she  cannot  take  the  castle."  No,  she  cannot  take  it ;  but  at  dead  of 
night  she  can  go  and  di'aw  back  some  bolt,  and  let  men  in  that  can 
take  it.  And  there  is  many  and  many  a  fault  that  is  not  itself  strong 
enough  to  do  you  much  harm,  but  that  is  strong  enough  to  open  the 
door  and  let  temptations  in  that  can  take  you  captive  and  destroy  you. 
Therefore  faults  are  many  of  them  to  be  watched  against,  and  feared, 
not  so  much  for  what  they  are  in  themselves,  as  for  that  which  they 
may  bring  upon  you. 

Again.  Faults  unwatched  tend  to  run  together,  and  so  to  become 
far  more  potent  than  they  are  in  detail.  A  little  sharpness  in  a 
person's  voice  occasionally  is  not  unpleasant.  A  little  spirit  is  neces- 
sary. It  is  of  the  nature  of  spice.  Life  without  anything  in  it,  you 
know,  is  dough ;  and  therefore  a  Uttle  temper — -just  a  little  spice — raises 
the  dough,  and  makes  bread  of  it.  But  a  little  more  temper,  and  a  lit- 
tle more,  and  a  Uttle  more,  and  you  are  a  shi-ew  and  a  scold.  The 
result  is  of  gi-eat  moment;  but  it  is  made  up  of  the  sum  of  little 
things,  each  one  of  which  is  apparently  of  not  much  importance. 

What  is  there  on  earth  so  small  as  mist-di'ops?  And  even  when, 
chilled  by  the  cold  in  the  atmosphere,  a  few  of  them  come  together, 
they  fall  as  scattered  di'ops  of  rain  upon  the  gi-ound.  They  can 
hardly  make  a  leaf  wink.  And  yet,  when  these  drops  fall  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, and  continuously,  and  di'op  finds  di-op,  and  they  run  along 
together,  a  rill  is  formed.  And  another  rUl  meets  that  one.  And  by 
and  by  there  is  a  stream  as  big  as  your  wiist.  And  such  streams  ai'e 
the  fathers  of  rivers,  mighty  and  UTesistible.     And  little  things,  that  do 


FAULTS.  121 

not  amc  mt  to  much  in  themselves,  if  there  are  enough  of  them,  and 
they  flow  together  long  enough,  constitute  UTesistible  forces. 

There  is  nothing  that  is  more  easily  crushed  than  a  small  spider ; 
but  if  you  let  him  alone  he  breeds  other  spiders ;  and  they  will  breed 
still  other  spiders.  Did  you  ever  see  what  a  swarm  of  spiders  will 
spring  from  one  egg"^.  And  yet,  all  of  them,  soon  after  they  are  hatched, 
not  only  are  predatory,  but  ai'e  weavers.  Great  is  the  tribe  of  weavers. 
Each  goes  to  work  to  make  himself  a  house — and  that  is  well  enough 
for  a  spider,  that  does  not  know  any  better.  One  of  these  spiders,  per- 
haps, is  in  my  window,  and  sets  about  making  his  house  there.  He  does 
not  seem  to  amount  to  much ;  but  he  has  a  power  that  is  not  to  be  des- 
pised. If  I  Avere  to  say  that  that  little  speck  of  a  spider  was  an  an- 
tagonist of  the  sun,  and  that  it  would  beat  the  sun  all  hollow,  you  would 
laugh  me  to  scorn ;  but  it  is  so.  For  presently  he  has  a  brood  of  spiders 
— five  hundi-ed  of  them — and  they  set  to  work  to  spin  theu-  webs,  and 
run  them  from  side  to  side,  from  top  to  bottom,  and  from  corner  to 
corner;  and  by  and  by  the  window  is  covered  all  over.  And  paiticles 
of  dust,  flying  through  the  an-,  settle  on  it,  and  fill  up  the  little  spaces 
between  the  threads.  And  after  a  while  the  spiders  spin  other  webs 
and  cover  over  the  fii'st  ones.  And  the  dust  settles  on  these.  And  iu 
a  year,  let  the  sun  get  through  that  window  if  he  can !  Big  as  he  is, 
and  strong  as  he  is,  the  spider  is  more  than  a  match  for  him. 

So  a  multitude  of  little  faults  obscure  moral  sight,  and  dim  a  man's 
outlook,  and  substantially  put  out  his  eyes,  so  that  he  cannot  see.  Al- 
though each  one  of  them  is  very  small,  they  are  very  efiective.  Be- 
ware of  faults  that  tend  to  reproduce  themselves  continually. 

Faults  also  prevent  true  gi'owth  in  life.  There  is  a  great  difierence, 
cf  course,  between  faults  that  prevent  growth,  and  those  that  do  not. 
There  are  many  that  do  not  seem  to  do  it ;  but  there  are  some  that  do 
do  it.  You  may  give  a  tree  a  good  soil,  and  a  good  summer  ;  and  if 
that  tree  is  a  little  sluggish,  and  it  falls  behind  a  little,  it  will  be  attack- 
ed by  moss,  which  is  a  parasitic  plant  that  draws  its  nourishment  partly 
from  the  tree,  and  partly  from  the  aii- ;  and  it  will  very  likely  be  attack- 
ed by  a  fly  which  is  another  kind  of  parasite  that  feeds  upon  the  leaf 
Each  particular  speck  of  moss,  each  particular  fungus,  that  hangs  itself 
upon  the  tree,  amounts  to  very  little.  One  apple-tree  is  ten  million 
imcs  bigger  than  one  of  those  little  plants  that  feed  on  it ;  but  each 
one  of  these  epiphytes  shoots  its  little  roots  into  the  tree ;  and  being 
multiplied  by  millions,  they  suck  out  the  sap,  and  diminish  the  vigor  of 
the  tree,  and  prevent  its  growth.  There  are  thousands  of  little  faults 
that  multiply  on  men,  and  act  in  the  same  way.  The  men  bef,om«f 
bark-bound,  and  leaf-blighted,  and  cease  to  have  moral  growth. 

Faults,  again,  propagate  themselves  silently  and  secretly,  and  vei^ 


122  FAULTS. 

dangerously;  and  they  domischiefsfar  from  the  point  at  which  they 
start,  and  do  mischiefs  too,  that  aj)pai'ently  are  quite  beyond  their 
own  nature. 

Up  above  the  fifth  story,  there  is  just  a  pin's  point  that  has  rusted 
in  the  roof;  and  the  painter  has  not  been  called  in  (for  the  man  is  eco- 
nomical, and  does  not  intend  to  paint  his  roof  too  often).  It  being  only 
a  pin's  point,  there  can  but  one  drop  get  thi-ough  at  a  time,  and  only  a 
small  one  at  that,  and  only  occasionally  can  one  get  through — not  oft- 
ener  than  once  in  fifteen  minutes.  And  the  man  says,  "What  is  that"?" 
and  laughs  to  scorn  the  idea  that  there  is  danger  that  he  needs  to  be 
much  afraid  of  Yet,  the  first  drop  finds  its  way  down,  near  the 
partition,  to  the  attic  floor.  And  by-and-by  another  follows  it  (for 
leaks  never  sleep,  but  woi'k  nights  and  days).  And  by-and-by  anotlier 
one  follows  that.  This  is  going  on  at  the  very  top  of  the  house,  and 
the  people  are  down  at  the  bottom.  After  a  while  there  is  enough  wa- 
ter to  start  a  new  line  ;  and  it  leaks  through  into  the  next  room.  Kow 
you  shall  see  that  the  ceiling  begins  to  be  discolored  ;  and  all  along 
down  the  wall  are  streaks.  And,  the  rain  continuing  through  days 
and  days,  the  leak  continues.  By  and-by  the  water  gets  into  the 
next  story,  and  creeps  in  behind  the  secretary  and  book-case,  and  damp- 
ens and  moistens  the  books,  and  gets  hold  of  the  papers,  and  molds 
them.  And  going  down  still  further,  to  the  next  story,  it  gets  at  the 
pictm'es,  and  water-colored  drawings,  and  engravings ;  and  they  aref  all 
damaged.  Going  down  still  further,  it  gets  into  the  closet  where 
the  linen  and  cotton  are  kejst ;  and  they  are  all  dampened  and  moistened. 
And  all  the  way  down  there  is  a  dampness  and  moisture  that  is  un- 
wholesome. The  servant  comes  down  sneezing  in  the  morning; 
and  the  children  come  down  coughing ;  and  the  old  folks  wonder  why 
it  is  that  they  have  the  rheumatism  so  in  a  house  that  has  such  a  good 
cellar,  and  is  so  well  constructed,  and  has  always  been  so  healthy.  Therft 
it  is,  that  little  insignificant  leak  ;  but  drop  following  upon  di-op,  through 
days  and  nights,  has  spoiled  the  roof,  and  spoiled  the  ceiling,  and 
siDoiled  the  paper  on  the  wall,  and  spoiled  the  books,  and  spoiled  the 
pictures  and  engravings,  and  spoiled  the  linen  and  cotton,  and  injured 
the  health  of  man,  woman  and  child. 

Are  not  faults  mischievous  ?  Are  there  not  persons  that  have  leaks 
in  the  roof — yes,  and  other  leaks  besides  ?  Is  it  not  these  continual 
di'oppings  that  spoil  the  fau-est  learning — ^books  ;  that  spoil  the  fairest 
dispositions  and  qualities — pictures  and  engravings  ;  that  spoil  the  fiur- 
est  treasui-es  and  richnesses  ?  Everything  in  a  man  may  be  moulded 
and  shrunk  and  spoiled  by  these  little  perpetual  infelicities  of  the  tem  • 
per  and  passions,  or  malign  feelings,  or  what  not. 

Faults  destroy  beauty  and  symmetry  of  character,  just  as  efieetually 


FAULTS.  123 

as  sins  do,  fivquently.  The  sense  of  proportion,  the  sense  of  fineness, 
the  sense  of  harmonious  combination,  which  constitutes  what  is  called 
art  when  applied  to  physical  things,  also  enters  into  every  true  and 
proper  conception  of  human  character.  Character  is  a  thing  of  sym- 
metry, and  proportion,  and  beauty  ;  and  any  thing  that  tends  to  mar 
its  beauty,  or  take  away  its  symmetry,  or  disturb  its  proportion,  tends 
to  destroy  the  final  form  of  the  glorious  ideal  of  true  character. 

A  picture  may  be  spoiled  by  being  torn,  or  slashed;  a  bomb  or  bal' 
may  burst  through  the  canvas  and  destroy  it ;  but  then,  a  picture  in  u 
neglected  convent  may  be  steamed  by  the  range,  and  smoked  by  the 
chimney,  and  dimmed  by  the  gathering  dust  of  ages,  and  be  jnit  out  by 
these  silent  incrustations  of  time  as  efiectually  as  if  it  were  taken  out  of 
the  frame  and  burned.  And  as  it  is  in  art,  so  it  is  in  character.  You 
can  overlay  beauty,  you  can  mar  perfectness  of  quality  or  faculty,  by- 
little  faults.  And  the  displeasure  is  greater,  frequently,  when  the  thing 
is  marred,  than  when  it  is  destroyed. 

I  would  a  great  deal  rather  that  that  exquisite  vase,  one  of  the 
fau-est  that  I  have,  had  been  broken  outright,  and  thrown  away, 
than  to  have  had  it  cracked.  I  have  lost  all  pleasure  in  it.  I 
turn  it  round  so  that  no  crack  can  be  seen ;  I  fix  it,  like  a  good  Christ- 
ian that  puts  the  best  foot  foremost ;  but  I  know  that  there  is  a  crack 
on  the  back  side.  I  cannot  use  it  for  flowers,  because  it  will  not  hold 
Avater ;  and  I  cannot  use  it  to  look  at,  because  I  know  there  is  that 
ugly  crack,  though  it  is  not  in  sight ;  and  I  wish  somebody  would 
smash  it,  and  throw  it  away ! 

A  man  has  a  large  emerald,  but  it  is  "  feathered,"  and  he  knows 
an  expert  would  say,  "  What  a  pity  that  it  has  such  a  feather !" 
it  M'ill  not  bring  a  quarter  as  much  as  it  otherwise  would ;  and 
he  cannot  take  any  satisfaction  in  it.  A  man  has  a  diamond;  but 
there  is  a  flaw  in  it,  and  it  is  not  the  diamond  that  he  Avants.  A  man 
has  an  opal,  but  it  is  imperfect,  and  he  is  dissatisfied  with  it.  An  opal 
is  covered  with  little  seams,  but  they  must  be  the  right  kind  of  seams. 
If  it  has  a  crack  running  clear  across,  it  is  marred,  no  matter  how  large 
it  is,  and  no  matter  how  wonderful  its  reflections  are.  And  this  man 
is  worried  all  the  time  because  he  knows  his  opal  is  imperfect ;  and  it 
•would  worry  him  even  if  he  knew  that  nobody  else  noticed  it. 

So  it  is  in  respect  to  dispositions,  and  in  respect  to  character  at 
large.  Little  cracks,  little  flaws,  little  featherings  in  them,  take  away 
then*  exquisiteness  and  beauty,  and  take  away  that  fine  finish  Avhich 
makes  moral  ai't.  How  many  noble  men  there  are  who  are  diminished, 
who  are  almost  Avasted,  in  then-  moral  influence !  Hoav  many  men  are 
like  the  red  maple !  It  is  one  of  the  most  gorgeous  trees,  both  in 
spring,  blossoming,  and  in  autumn,  with  its  crimson  foliage.     But  it 


124  FAULTS. 

stands  knee-deep  in  swamp-water,  usually.  To  get  to  it,  you  must 
wade,  or  leap  from  bog  to  bog,  tearing  your  raiment,  and  soiling  your- 
self. I  see  a  great  many  noble  men,  but  they  stand  in  a  swamp  of 
faults.  They  bear  fruit  that  you  fain  would  pluck,  but  there  are  briars 
and  thistles  and  thorns  all  about  it ;  and  to  get  it  you  must  make  your 
way  through  all  these  hindi-ances. 

How  many  persons  there  are  that  ai'e  sm-rounded  by  a  thousand 
little  petty  faults !  They  are  so  hedged  in  by  these  things  that  you 
lose  all  the  comfort  and  joy  that  you  would  otherwise  have  in  them. 
How  many  men  there  are  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  There  was  the  making 
of  a  man  in  him,  but  he  is  full  of  faults.  Pity  that  he  has  spoiled 
himself!"  But  if  we  should  pity  all  the  pitiable  things  which  we  see 
in  our  fellow  men,  we  should  not  have  time  to  do  anything  else  but 
pity,  men  are  so  faulty.  And  if  men,  prompted  by  charily,  pity  their 
fellows,  how  much  must  God  and  angels  pity  men ! 

Once  moi-e.  Faults  are  great  wasters  of  happiness.  They  are  the 
source  of  frets.  They  mar  our  peace.  They  keep  up  petty  discords. 
They  are  so  small  as  to  elude  the  grasp.  They  are  like  a  piano  (mine, 
for  instance)  that  has  been  standing  all  summer  in  an  empty  house 
without  being  tuned.  Some  of  the  notes  are  too  low,  and  some  too 
high ;  and  they  are  all  of  them  just  a  little  out  of  tune.  The  instrument 
is  good,  and  sound,  and  pretty  nearly  chorded;  but  it  is  not  quite  in 
tune.  And  the  not  quite  takes  away  all  comfort  from  the  musician 
who  sits  down  to  it.  He  plays,  it  may  be,  through  the  middle  range 
without  much  discomfort ;  but  when  he  strikes  a  note  in  the  uj^per 
range,  it  makes  him  cringe.  And  it  is  so  with  happiness.  Happiness 
is  harmony.  It  requii-es  the  faculties  to  be  harmonious  all  the  way 
through.  Violent  excitement  is  seldom  a  source  of  great  happiness. 
It  gives  joy  for  the  moment,  but  it  is  not  often  the  source  of  what  we 
call  true  hap^jiness.     That  comes  from  a  lower  range  of  action. 

It  is  just  at  this  point  that  faults  disturb  a  man's  happiness,  and  mar 
his  enjoyment.  Therefore  you  will  find  that  men  are  almost  never 
unhappy  at  all  in  proportion  to  the  real  afflictions  which  befall  them. 
Men  oftentimes  are  a  great  deal  happier  under  severe  strokes  than  they 
were  before  the  strokes  came. 

A  man  is  prosperous  in  his  aifairs.  The  foxmdation  is  well  laid,  and 
the  superstructure  is  going  up  nobly.  Men  serve  him.  He  commands 
them.  The  heavens  are  propitious,  and  the  sea  and  land  fjwor  him. 
But  after  all,  he  is  troubled,  and  he  worries  and  frets.  He  is  unhappy, 
though  he  can  scarcely  tell  you  why.  His  companion  at  home,  all 
sweet  and  serene,  says  to  him  in  the  morning,  "  My  dear,  why  are  yru 
so  gloomy  ?"  He  cannot  tell  why  he  is  ;  but  he  is.  There  are  httle 
minute  discords  all  through  him.     There  is  the  friction  of  faculty  on 


FAULTS.  '  125 

faculty.  There  is  a  little  under-gi-atification  here,  and  a  little  over- 
gi-atifi cation  there.  His  mind  is  out  of  joint.  It  is  not  harmonious 
with  itself.  And  faults  are  wasters  of  great  force.  Though  they  are 
small,  they  are  powerful  in  destroying  that  balance  of  the  mind  which 
makes  perfect  harmony. 

Faults  are  also  dangerous,  in  then*  own  way,  because  they  have  in- 
sect fecundity.  They  are  apt  to  swarm.  And  though  a  few  of  them 
may  not  do  much  harm,  when  men  come  to  have  a  great  many  of  them 
they  will  avail  as  much  as  if  they  were  actual  transgressions.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  there  should  be  wolves,  and  lions,  and  bears  in  the  woods 
to  drive  hunters  out  of  them.  Black  flies,  or  musquitos,  or  gnats,  will 
drive  them  out,  if  there  are  enough  of  them.  These  little  winged 
points  of  creation  make  up  what  they  lack  in  individual  strength  by  their 
enormous  multitude.  You  might  kill  a  million,  and  make  no  impres- 
sion upon  them.  Faults  oftentimes  swai'm  and  become  strong  and 
dangerous  by  reason  of  then-  multitude.  Multitude,  in  such  cases,  is 
equivalent  to  power. 

The  effect  of  faults  is  very  great,  also,  upon  a  man's  influence.  Of 
course  much  depends  on  the  underlying  power  of  the  individual ;  but 
frequently  men  have  no  personal  charm,  and  no  personal  influence,  on 
account  simply  of  little  blemishes  which  only  need  to  be  removed  to 
enable  them  to  shine  out  and  be  strong  men.  I  have  known  men  who 
failed  in  life,  not  from  a  lack  of  great  powers,  but  from  faults  that 
marred  the  use  of  then-  powers. 

I  know  that  persons  without  faults  are  generally  thought  to  be  un- 
interesting. I  think  they  are  myself.  But  it  makes  a  great  difference 
where  the  faults  are,  and  of  what  sort  they  are.  What  are  called  per- 
fect  people  are  marbleistic.  They  are  people  who  do  not  do  wrong, 
generally,  because  they  do  not  do  anything.  They  are  cold  and  statue- 
like. I  would  as  lief  hold  communion  with  a  box  of  wax  candles,  as 
with  a  set  of  perfect  folks,  who  are  so  cold  and  proper  that  they  do  not 
have  any  faults.  That  kind  of  perfect  people  lead  us  to  say,  frequently, 
that  faults  and  sins  make  folks  interesting.  But,  as  I  have  already  said, 
it  depends  a  great  deal  upon  what  sort  they  are.  There  is  a  vein  of 
truth  in  this ;  but  you  must  be  careful  not  to  generalize  too  fast.  What 
we  want  is  to  see  that  everybody,  in  proportion  as  he  is  strong  and  great, 
is  really  human,  and  is  really  of  us,  and  has  symj)athy  with  us.  There- 
fore, if  a  man  is  perfect ;  if  he  is  symmetrical  in  his  strength  and  wis- 
dom; and  if,  at  the  same  time,  his  kindness  and  sympathy  and  gentle- 
ness are  such  that  they  are  all  the  while  breaking  out  into  faults,  so  that 
we  feel  his  heart  right  against  ours,  then  we  like  him,  and  say  that  these 
faults  make  him  interesting.  But  they  are  little  overactions  of  goodness 
and  benevolence  and  pity,  or  they  would  not  make  him  so  interesting. 


126  •  FAULTS. 

We  like  the  scholarly  man  who  is  encyclopedaic  in  his  knowledge, 
and  who  yet  is  cheated  by  his  boot-black.  He  could  calculate  the 
eclipses  of  the  sun,  and  follow  the  planets  in  their  courses,  and  in  their 
utmost  wanderings ;  you  could  not  cheat  him  in  regard  to  the  remotest 
part  of  the  stellar  universe,  to  the  amount  of  the  smallest  fraction.  But 
a  boy  brushes  his  boots,  and  he  gives  him  twenty-five  cents  instead  of 
ten  ;  and  the  boy  makes  him  think  that  is  right ;  and  he  goes  away, 
and  everybody  laughs  at  it.  And  really,  they  like  the  old  fellow  better 
after  that,  the  fault  being  one  of  generosity,  and  trust,  and  kindness. 

We  like  faults  that  bring  men  down  to  us  in  affection,  in  benefac- 
tion, and  in  sympathy.  A  man  who  is  cold,  and  does  not  care  for  liis 
neighbor,  nor  for  human  life,  though  he  were  like  an  angel,  or  like  a 
God,  is  a  devil ;  for  that  it  is  to  be  a  devil,  not  to  care  for  the  happi- 
ness of  another.  And  the  higher  you  lift  him  up,  the  stronger  you 
make  him,  the  more  people  do  not  like  him.  They  do  not  like  to  see 
this  cold  pride,  this  hard  power,  made  radiant  and  bright,  and  they  will 
not  call  it  beautiful.  But  if  a  man  is  large,  and  is  filled  with  all  man 
ner  of  gifts,  carried  high,  while  at  the  same  time  he  has  fiiults  of  kind- 
ness which  ally  him  to  his  fellow  men,  then  people  think  "That  is 
grand!  that  is  glorious!  I  like  a  man  with  faults  !"  So  do  I;  but  I  do 
not  want  faults  in  the  ^vl•ong  place.  Faults  of  the  passions,  faults  of 
selfishness  and  pride  and  avarice,  are  hateful.  The  faults  of  love  are 
beautiful.  The  faults  of  love  are  like  the  lisping  words  from  youthful 
beauty.  The  faults  of  love  are  like  the  prattling  English  of  little  chil- 
di'en.  The  faults  of  love  are  like  the  witching  little  mistakes  that  are 
made  in  the  nursery  and  in  the  parlor.  The  only  faults  that  should  be 
tolerated  are  the  faults  of  sympathy,  the  faults  of  pvu-e  love  and  good- 
ness— not  fixults  of  evil. 

I  might  go  on  and  show  a  gi*eat  many  other  things  about  faults ; 
for,  as  they  are  multitudinous,  so  the  theme  itself  is  fertile ;  but  this 
must  suffice. 

We  are  commanded,  then,  to  confess  our  faults.  To  whom?  The 
priest?  Yes.  The  priest  maj/  be  just  as  good  as  if  he  were  not  a  priest! 
It  ought  not  to  be  set  down  against  a  man  if  he  is  a  j)riest.  It  ought 
not  to  be  set  down  against  a  man  if  he  is  rich.  A  man  may  be  good 
and  yet  be  rich ;  and  a  man  may  be  good  and  yet  be  a  priest.  And  if 
any  man  knows  a  priest  who  is  a  good  man,  and  is  willing  to  listen  to 
him  and  give  him  good  advice,  there  is  no  earthly  reason  why  he  may 
not  go  to  him.  There  is  no  reason  why  he  must ;  but  there  is  no  rear 
son  why  he  may  not,  provided  he  goes  to  him,  not  as  a  priest,  but  as  a 
sensible  man  who  has  a  heart  of  sympathy,  and  a  desu-e  to  help  his  fel- 
low creatm'cs. 

But  that  is  not  what  is  meant,  evidently,  in  the  text.   "  Confess  your 


VAULTS.  127 

i./iills  one  to  another."  Do  you  not  know  tliiit  the  peuuinbra  iii  social 
lU"-,  comes  where  persons  begin  a  defence  of  their  opinions.  "You  did 
it  "I  did  not."  "You  said  so  and  so."  "I  did  not  say  so  and  so." 
I  w^fer  to  the  ten  thousand  little  faults,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  fault 
of  ju3tice,  where  one  child  says,  "This  is  mine,  and  you  shall  not  have 
it;"  .aid  another  clrkA  ohdms  it,  and  will  not  give  it  up — that  is,  where 
they  aro  on  their  conscie.ices.  You  shall  often  see  faults  of  this  sort 
exhibite*.^  ^y  husband  and  wife.  All  tln-ough  life  are  men  that  will  de- 
fend then-  i..ults,  and  stand  up  and  argue  about  them. 

Frequently  u  man  will  adnit  liis  great  sins,  but  not  his  faults.  The 
apostle  says,  "•  You  are  to  own  your  faults."  If  a  man  says,  "You 
were  proud,"  say,  "  Yes,  I  was  proud."  "  You  ought  not  to  have  done 
that."  "  Well,  I  ought  not  to  has^e  done  it."  "  You  said  that  through 
vanity."  "  It  is  true,  I  did.  I  was  ix.ider  the  influence  of  vanity,  and 
I  sacrificed  you  through  vanity.  I  conietjs  it.  Help  me  out  of  it  next 
time."  "  You  were  over-eao-er,  and  j-ovi  did  not  settle  that  matter  as 
you  ought  to  have  done,  between  you  and  me,  considering  what  we 
are  to  each  other."  "  No,  I  did  not."  "  ~i  ou  were  not  just  to  those 
young  men  under  your  charge.  You  thovghi  of  you)-  own  interest, 
and  did  not  think  of  theirs.  You  did  not  put  yourself  in  their  places. 
You  did  not  think  of  them,  nor  their  mothers,  uo/  anybody  else  except 
yom'self.  Ycu  were  hard  and  unjust."  "  Well,  I  think  I  was.  Yes, 
that  was  a  fault.  I  did  not  see  it  then,  but  I  do  noM',  when  my  atten- 
tion is  called  to  it." 

How  beautiful  it  is  to  see  a  man  confess  his  faults !  So  beautiful  is 
it,  that  I  wonder  I  do  not  confess  mine  oftei^er !  But,  my  dear  friends,  I 
find  that  being  virtuous  up  here,  is  a  very  difl^rent  thing  from  being  vu'tu- 
ous  down  there.  I  can  preach  first-rate  vutue  in  sermons,  and  tell  you 
most  excellent  things.  I  would  to  God  I  could  be  as  good  as  I  can  preach. 
But  I  find  it  very  hard ;  and  I  know  you  do,  by  what  I  see.  We  all  find 
it  hard,  do  we  not?  We  are  all  imperfect.  We  are  all  sinners.  We  all 
need  to  confess.  When  I  say  that  you  are  wrong,  and  you  say  that  I 
am  wrong,  we  need  to  confess  our  faults  one  to  another.  We  need 
to  be  more  gentle,  and  sympathetic,  and  loving  and  hopeful  toward 
each  other.  As  long  as  you  make  your  fiiults  a  bulwark  to  stand  be- 
hind and  fight  me,  so  long  I  am  your  enemy,  and  you  are  my  foe. 
But  if  we  could  only  understand  how  imperfect  we  are  ;  if  our  hearts 
were  only  filled  with  a  true  humility,  if  we  felt  every  day  of  our  lives 
that  God  had  a  hard  task  to  get  along  with  us,  it  would  make  us  far 
more  gentle  and  amiable. 

It  is  not  the  ofience,  but  the  defence  of  the  ofience,  that  makes  it 
hard  for  us  to  bear  with  one  another.  A  man  may  say  to  me,  "  You 
ai'e  a  vUe  sinner;"  he  may  rain  his  words  on  me  like  blows  ;  but  if  he 


128  FAULTS, 

comes  back  when  his  passion  has  gone  down,  with  teai's  in  his  eyes, 
and  says,  "  Oh  !  forgive  me  ;  I  did  not  mean  it,"  it  is  all  gone,  quick- 
er than  a  flash  of  lightning.  I  love  him  all  the  more.  The  fault  is 
not  hard  to  bear.  It  is  the  defending  the  fault,  it  is  the  refusing  to 
make  up  under  fault,  that  rankles,  and  makes  us  ugly  in  retm-n.  Where 
there  is  one  ugly  man,  there  are  two,  generally. 

How  wise,  then,  is  James'  command,  "  Confess  your  faults  one  to 
another."  Nor  is  that  aU — "  and  j^ray  one  for  another."  There  ai'e 
two  ways  of  treating  faults.  One  is  to  leap  at  them,  and  make  haste 
to  blazon  them  abroad  ;  or,  if  restrained  from  doing  that,  to  create  sus- 
picions in  the  minds  of  others  concerning  them.  Have  you  not  heard 
persons  say  of  another's  fault,  "  It  is  coming  out.  It  will  be  all  through 
the  neighborhood  soon.  You  just  wait,  and  you  will  know.  I  cannot 
tell,  because  I  promised  not  to ;  but  it  will  not  be  long  before  it  avUI 
be  out."  That  is  one  way  to  treat  faults.  The  other  way  is  to  treat 
them  as  a  mother  treats  her  child's  faults.  A  child  is  sent  home  from 
school  for  some  misdemeanor.  It  is  a  dark  day  for  the  mother.  She 
goes  to  her  closet,  and  takes  the  child  in  the  arms  of  her  heart  before 
God,  and  says,  "  Oh  Jesus  !  do  not  let  my  lamb  be  destroyed.  Oh !  give 
me  wisdom  to  correct  the  child."  Then,  with  tears,  she  gives  stripes 
to  the  child ;  and  every  stroke  is  a  double-acting  stroke,  which  hmts 
her  more  than  it  does  the  child. 

The  apostle  says,  "  When  your  brother  oflfends,  or  does  wrong,  go 
and  pray  for  him.  Do  not  report  his  fault.  Rejoice  not  in  iniquity." 
And  if  we  prayed  more  we  should  blame  less  ;  we  should  be  iav  more 
tolerant ;  we  should  not  suspect  so  much  ;  we  should  not  carry  stories 
so  much  ;  we  should  not  do  wrong  so  much.  For,  there  is  nothing 
that  makes  a  man  so  charitable  as  that  which  he  has  himself  sufiered. 

An  old  veteran,  who  has  gone  thi'ough  a  hundi-ed  battles,  and  is  as 
firm  as  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  dangers,  has  a  young  officer  under  his 
command,  who,  in  his  first  action  quivers  with  fear,  and  trembles  like 
an  aspen  leaf.  If  this  superior  officer  had  never  seen  any  service,  he 
would  scoff  at  the  young  man,  and  laugh  him  to  scorn ;  but  instead  of 
that,  the  true  man  and  veteran  comes  up  to  the  frightened  soldier,  and 
says,  "  My  young  man,  keep  cool.  You  are  doing  well.  I  was  as 
scared  as  you  are  when  I  fii-st  went  into  action ;  but  I  got  over  it,  and 
you  will  get  over  it."  What  balm!  what  magnanimity!  There  is 
nothing  hke  the  sympathy  which  is  created  by  our  own  expeiience. 

Do  you  see  men  who  have  great  faults  of  temper,  and  who  are  al- 
most intolerable?  II  you  have  had  faults  of  temper  you  ought  to 
know  how  to  bear  with  these  men.  If  there  is  anything  that  }-ou  do 
not  hke  in  your  neighbor,  look  and  see  if  you  have  not  the  same  thing 
in  yom-self  in  some  form  or  other.     Is  there  something  that  makes  the 


FAULTS.  129 

company  of  a  certain  person  distasteful  to  you?  See  if  the  same  thing, 
in  some  mode  of  development,  has  not  found  a  place  in  you.  Look 
into  your  hearts  and  learn  to  be  charitable  toward  those  who  sin.  It 
may  be  that  you  sin  in  the  sight  of  God  a  hundi-ed  times  more  than 
those  whom  you  blame.  I  believe  that  often  when  we  are  blaming 
men,  om"  blame  is  more  sinful  before  God  than  their  transgression. 

By  confessing  our  faults  one  to  another,  and  praying  for  one 
another,  we  learn  humility  on  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  side  that 
lai'ge  chaiity  which  covers  transgi-ession  and  hides  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Finally,  while  we  are  striving  to  bear  our  own  burdens,  and  to  sus- 
tain the  faults  and  shortcomings  of  our  fellow  men,  let  us  remember 
every  day  what  Chi-ist  is  obliged  to  bear  in  and  for  us.  I  speak  out 
of  the  depths  of  my  own  experience.  When,  in  the  hour  of  impetuous 
force,  when,  intense  and  sensitive  and  wilful,  I  fain  would  rush  on  to 
the  condemnation  of  a  fellow  man,  the  thought  of  what  Christ  has 
been  obliged  to  bear  from  me  always  tempers  the  zeal  of  my  indigna- 
tion; and  I  say,  "If  Christ  could  bear  my  infirmities,  ought  I  not  to 
bear  one  of  his  little  childi-en's  infirmities  ?"  And  so  I  endeavor  to  be 
to  others,  according  to  the  measm'e  of  my  natm'e,  what,  according  to 
the  amplitude  and  the  gloiy  of  his  nature,  God  is  to  me. 

Christian  brethi'en,  take  this  matter  home.  Do  not  make  it  a 
matter  of  criticism  and  comment,  but,  say,  "What  shall  I  change 
in  my  family  to-day  ?"  Is  there  not  something  that  this  sermon  will 
enable  you  to  do  for  the  good  of  your  children'?  Is  there  not 
sometliing  in  this  sermon  that  will  make  husband  and  wife  better  ? 
Are  there  not  some  states  of  things  in  your  neighborhood,  are  there 
not  some  things  in  yom*  relations  to  your  business,  or  to  your  paitners 
in  business,  or  something  in  your  relations  to  men  round  about  you, 
that  should  make  you  a  better  man  ?  Ask  God  to  give  you  such  a 
sense  of  your  own  sinfulness  and  blameworthiness  as  shall  enable  you 
to  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  you. 


130  FAULTS. 

PRAYER    BEFORE  THE  SERMON, 

Blessed  be  thy  name,  O  thou  Father  of  all,  for  thine  excellent  goodness,  and  for  tlio 
mercy  which  is  over  all  the  work  of  thine  hands.  "We  rejoice  to  believe  that  thine  eye 
never  slumbers.  Thou  art  always  present,  unwasted  by  years;  undiminished  by  age  in 
strength;  glorious  in  holiness;  perfect  in  praises;  without  variableness  or  shadow  of 
turning;  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever.  Thou  art  not  changed  by  reason  of  our 
changes.  Thy  promises  are  Yea,  and  Ameu;  and  thou  wilt  fultill  thfin  to  the  uttermost. 
Herein  is  our  Lope.  Our  own  power — how  soon  is  it  diminished,  as  a  summer  brock 
that  dries  so  that  there  is  none  of  it !  All  our  virtues  and  purposes  of  good  are  as  a  sum- 
1  mer  cloud,  and  as  the  early  dew.  Thou  hast  so  royally  endowed  us  that  we  tind  the  bur- 
:  den  of  life  in  carrying  all  that  belongs  to  us  equally  and  well  too  great  for  our  strength; 
and  we  are  perpetually  running  to  excess,  or  are  diminished  by  lack.  We  come  short  in 
many  things,  and  in  many  things  we  overact.  On  every  siUe  we  tind  limitation,  and  imper- 
fection, and  much  sin.  and  actual,  purposed  transgression.  O  Lord  our  God !  if  it  were  not 
for  the  hope  of  thy  help,  if  it  were  not  for  thine  own  succoring  spirit,  if  we  did  not  float  in 
^  an  atmosphere  of  love,  if  we  were  not  nourished  by  the  yearning  of  thy  heart  we  should  be 
in  despair.  Nor  would  we  lift  up  one  endeavor.  But  because  thou  art  bringing  us  for- 
ward from  infancy  to  the  ripeness  of  manhood  in  Christ  Jesus;  because  as  a  patient 
Teacher  thou  art  willing  to  bear  with  our  dulness,  and  with  our  fractious  disobedience; 
because,  having  loved  us  as  a  faithful  Parent  thou  wilt  love  us  unto  the  end;  because 
thou  hast  made  it  the  business  of  thy  love  to  take  our  faults,  and  to  bear  our  infirmities 
for  the  curing  of  them,  therefore  have  we  hope  and  strong  confidence.  Wo  are  sure  of 
salvation;  for  who  shall  pluck  us  out  of  thine  hand?  and  what  shall  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  ?  Our  weakness  would  destroy  us;  and  our  sins  would  sub- 
merge us;  but  our  sins  are  not  so  mighty  as  thy  love;  and  our  imperfections  are  not  able 
to  stand  against  the  conquering  might  of  thy  divine  excellency.  With  thee  is  all  power 
— and  all  power  that  nourishes.  Thou  art  terrible,  and  to  be  feared;  and  yet,  behind  all 
fear  is  the  everlasting  flow  of  love.  By  that  thou  wilt  redeem;  by  that  thou  wilt  in  the 
end  conquer.  And  we  rejoice  in  the  intiniteness  of  thy  nature,  and  the  infinite  applica- 
tions of  thy  uature  to  ours;  so  that  all  of  our  life  is  but  a  getting  ready  to  bo  born,  and 
the  earth  is  but  the  womb,  and  the  morning  of  death  and  of  the  resurrection  is  our  true 
birth.  Thou  art  moulding  and  fashioning  every  part,  to  bring  us  forth  into  the  glorious 
image  of  the  true  man  in  the  heavenly  state. 

Grant  that  in  all  the  infirmities  of  life,  and  in  all  its  trials,  we  may  not  be  so  foolish  as 
not  to  know  that  we  are  sons  of  God.  Grant  that  we  may  not  count  our  nome  here,  and 
go  about  the  tent  as  if  that  were  a  mansion,  and  look  upon  the  wilderness  as  if  that  were 
our  Father's  garden.  We  are  away  from  home  eo  long  as  we  are  in  the  body  and  absent 
from  the  Lord.  May  we  therefore  look  out  of  sorrow  into  the  land  of  jny ;  out  of  trouble 
into  the  cloudless  land;  out  of  all  sin  and  remorse  into  that  blessed  land  where  there 
shall  be  no  more  sin  nor  sorrow.  If  we  shed  tears  and  groan,  being  burdened  here,  may 
\  it  only  incite  in  us  a  conception  of  the  blessedness  of  that  heaven  where  thou  shalt  wipe 
every  tear  from  our  eyes,  and  where  we  shall  go  out  no  more  forever,  but  be  forever  vrith 
the  Lord.  We  thank  thee  even  for  glimpses  of  that  day.  Wo  thank  thee  for  the  ineffa- 
ble sense  which  thou  dost  breathe  upon  us  of  peace  through  forgiveness.  We  thank 
thee  for  thy  fidelity.  We  thank  thee  for  the  pledges  which  thou  art  giving  us  evermore. 
Thou  art  still  sendiug  thy  messengers  to  encourage  us.  Thou  art  saying  to  us,  "This  is 
the  way."  When  it  seems  as  if  there  were  no  path,  when  it  is  hidden,  thine  angels  guide 
us,  aud  our  feet  find  it.  We  are  never  forsaken.  When  most  we  seem  alone,  when  we 
seem  most  cast  out,  when  we  are  forsaken  of  men,  and  despised  of  them,  we  are  nearer 
to  thee  than  ever.  For  it  is  the  nature  of  thine  heart  to  run  first  and  most  to  those  who 
need  thee  most.  Thou  art  by  those  who  are  in  extreme  sorrow;  by  tliose  that  mourn 
over  earthly  abuses;    by  those  who  sit  in  darkness;  by  those  who  die  for  lack  of  visi(m. 

And  now,  0  Lord,  we  rebuke  ourselves  that  we  ever  doubted  thee,  or  counted  out 
lives  dear  to  us.  What  do  we  need  who  have  thee  ?  Why  do  we  mourn  departing  riches 
who  have  riches  that  fade  not,  in  the  heavenly  land?  What  matters  it  though  we  are  cut 
asunder,  heart  from  heart,  if  we  are  to  be  joined  again  in  the  bright  land  beyond,  where 


FAULTS.  131 

all  misapprohension  shall  cease;  whero  ?\\  mistakes  shall  end;  -vr'^ere  all  alieDations shall 
glow  with  eudlcss  love;  where  thou  shalt  unite  again  all  to  theO;  vnd  all  to  each  other, 
and  they  shall  behold  each  other  without  snot  or  blemish,  or  9\j  fich  thing  ?  Oh !  grant 
us  faith  of  this  glorious  union  bejoud,  aud  quicken  our  patit-nr^  and  ourforl^earanceono 
with  another  hero.  Comfort  us  in  all  oar  burdens  and  dis'.ou'agemcnts.  Lead  us  as 
little  children  are  led  hy  the  father's  haLd  alor.g  the  I'uggcd  path  of  life.  And  may  we 
at  last  win  Jesus,  oiir  Mark,  and  Aim,  and  the  Prize  of  our  high  oallinii-. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bo  with  those  who  are  net  with  u/s,  but  are  of  us,  and  whose 
longing  thoughts  brood  this  place.  Comfort  them.  Hep.Tcn  is  open  everywhere;  and 
may  they  be  able,  from  their  side  couches,  to  take  '.omething  of  the  joy  of  thy  salvation. 
Prepare  for  death  those  that  are  appointed  Iherounto.  Walk  gently  with  them.  Do 
not  bear  them  as  unto  storuis,  but  carry  tLca  out  of  storms  into  the  land  of  peace,  unwet 
■with  tears.  Be  near  to  all  those  who  are  to  rrouni  and  are  to  have  the  surprise  of  sud- 
den and  overwhelming  afilictionc.  Gra'jt  that  they  mj»7  be  comforted,  and  hold  fast 
their  faith,  even  as  thj' discipk-s 'lid  whrn  thca  "#crt*.tken  avf^af  rrom  them,  and  they 
were  scattered  as  sheep  withor.t  a  sLe^herl.  Kemrm^er  thiat,  et^-mo'i^  tor  *^hine  own, 
and  remember  all  that  are  in  ajcgrish  now,  or  f.iV  to  oe  led  into  the  way  of  sharp  trial. 
And  be  with  those,  we  beseech  of  tbee,  who  see  \.YAt  earthly  plans  overturned;  upon 
whom  nave  fallen  the  tempest,  Tvhirling  ar.d  rw-eping  away  all  the  hopes  of  their  life. 
And  grant  that  they  may  not  esteem  th;mspl''Cf,  overthrown  and  destroyed  because  their 
outward  good  is  gone,  to  whom  rem'.ins  yjt  Grod,  and  heaven,  and  country,  and  life, 
■with  the  hope  of  honor  and  ti-uth  untarr.i*"n'd.  Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  they 
may  rise  up  into  spirit-wealth,  and  th'^t  tl  dy  may  approve  their  manhood  as  superior  to 
all  outward  circumstances. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wUt  bo  with  the  tempted.  How  many  are  there  that 
set  snares  for  their  fellow  men!  Ko',/  mighty  is  the  scope,  and  how  cunning  is  the  wis- 
dom of  the  adversary  of  men's  sou' -s.  Be  with  all  those  whose  temptation  is  greater 
than  they  cau  bear.  They  aro  thine.  Let  them  not  fall.  And  if  they  fall,  do  not  bate 
them.  Let  us  not  hate  them*  I-ift  them  up.  Teach  us  to  imitate  thee  in  lifting  them 
up.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  that  great  mercy  and  grace  which 
is  revealed  in  Jesus  Chris!,  toward  the  lost  may  be  revealed  in  some  measure  toward  us. 
Oh  I  let  not  our  power  and  prosperity  make  us  arrogant,  and  cold,  and  set  us  aside  from 
our  fellow  men.  By  that  which  thou  gavest  Uis  may  we  hear  thee  saying,  "  Freely  have 
ye  received,  freely  give."  May  we  be  afraid  to  be  prospered  without  growing  moro 
humane,  and  more  generous.  May  we  dread  that  prosperity  which  hardeus  the  heart, 
and  makes  us  proud  and  worldly. 

And  so,  dear  Lord,  dwell  with  us  all,  according  to  the  necessities  of  our  case. 
Suit  thy  providence  to  our  want.  Grant  that  wo  may  adapt  ourselves  to  thy  providence. 
Lead  us  so  long  as  we  live  safely,  with  a  song,  both  by  day  and  by  night.  And  grant 
that  at  last,  when  we  shall  have  passed  through  the  scenes  of  thismortal  life,  and  through 
the  trial  and  siege  of  death  itself,  we  may  find  heaven  more  than  ever  we  thought  it  to 
be.  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  what  thou  hast  reserved  for  those  that  love  thee. 
May  we  find  it  all,  and  finding  thee,  be  satisfied  with  thy  likeness. 

And  to  thy  name,  O  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Spirit !  shall  be  praises  everlasting.  Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  heavenly  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  follow  with  thy  blessing  the 
word  of  truth  and  exhortation  which  we  have  spoken.  Bless  us  in  all  our  relations  one  to 
another.  Make  us  more  gentle.  Make  us  more  tender-hearted.  May  we  make  haste  to 
find  excuses  for  our  neighbors,  but  may  we  bo  rigorous  wiih  ourselves.  May  we  never 
forgive  our  own  faults;  but  may  we  forgive  the  faults  of  everybody  else.  And  we  pray 
that  thus  we  may  learn  to  be  just  at  home,  and  to  be  benevolent  and  humane  abroad. 
So  we  pray  that  thou  wouldst  mould  us,  that  we  may  walk  among  men  dilfusing  fhe 
bounty  of  God's  great  love  and  kindness,  making  human  life  richer,  and  sweeter,  and 
purer,  and  more  joyful,  until  at  last  thou  hast  served  thyself  by  us.  And  then  take  us 
home  to  heaven,  where  wo  will  praise  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Spirit,  evermore. 
A  men. 


IX. 

The  Comforting  Gob, 


INVOCATION. 

Thou  art  very  high,  and  all  power  is  with  thee,  Almighty  God,  but  with 
thee  is  love.  Thou  art  more  tender  than  the  weak;  more  condescending 
than  the  lowest ;  and  thine  infinite  greatness  is  that  thou  art  generous,  and 
full  of  compassion  and  of  tender  mercy.  We  rejoice  in  thee.  We  supplicate 
thy  favor  this  morning,  not  as  those  that  doubt  it.  We  come  asking  what 
we  are  already  receiving,  because  thou  hast  made  it  sweet  to  ask  the  things 
Which  we  shall  have.  Bless  us,  O,  our  Father  1  Clothe  us,  this  morning,  as 
parents  clothe  their  children  for  days  of  joy.  Grant  that  we  may  be  this 
day  clothed  so  that  we  shall  appear  beautiful  to  thee,  and  so  that  thou  shalt 
look  with  favor  upon  us,  and  rejoice  in  us.  Lift  us  up  into  that  sphere  in 
which  we  shall  rejoice  with  thee;  and  sanctify  the  services  of  the  sanctuary 
— our  reading,  our  prayer,  our  songs  of  praise,  our  meditation,  our  acts  of 
instruction  and  devotion.  And  may  the  whole  day  be  blessed  of  God, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.    Amen. 


K 


/ 


THE  COMFORTING  GOD. 


"Now  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  hiraeelf,  ami  God,  even  our  Father  which  hath  loved  us,  and 
bath  piven  us  everlasting-  coiisohition  and  p"od  hope  throufih  grace,  comfort  your  lioiirts,  &Hd 
Btablish  you  in  every  good  word  and  work." — 2.  Thess.  11.  16,  17. 


There  are  happy  and  easy  souls  that  are  buoyecl  up  by  inward  hope- 
fulness and  outward  prosperities,  who  can  hardly  understand  the  need 
of  so  much  being  said  about  God's  consolations,  and  who  scarcely  derive 
any  light  or  comfort  from  those  numerous  passages  in  the  word  of  God 
that  to  others  are  like  water  in  the  wilderness. 

There  are  some,  less  happy,  who,  in  themselves,  in  theii*  friends,  in 
the  church,  in  the  world,  see  full  enough  for  anxiety,  often  for  discoiu*- 
agement,  and  sometimes  even  for  despondency. 

There  ai^e  many  who  to  themselves  seem  to  have  a  hard  time  in  life ; 
and  to  all  such,  whether  this  feeling  be  founded  on  reality,  oi"  upon  an 
exaggerated  sense  of  the  troubles  that  they  bear,  the  words  that  I  have 
read,  and  such  like  words,  must  come  with  peculiar  cheer. 

There  is  a  singular  sweetness  in  this  and  similar  passages,  when  they 
are  regarded  as  voices  sent  down  to  men  in  then  struggles  through  life. 
They  are  like  open  glades  in  a  dark  forest,  where  the  sun  lies  on  warm 
banks,  the  father  of  many  flowers.  And  so  these  openings  with  sum- 
mer in  them  have  peculiar  relish  and  charm  to  many. 

There  is  a  recognition  in  the  word  of  God,  of  human  need.  There 
is  a  condescending  element  in  truth,  as  in  the  Master.  There  is 
in  it  a  sympathy  with  men  that  is  utterly  unlike  nature,  which  has  no 
voice  of  sympathy,  if  you  inteiijret  it  from  the  material  side,  but  only 
inflexible,  immutable  law,  saying,  "The  soul  that  obeys  shall  live,  and 
that  is  its  own  look-out ;  and  the  soul  that  disobeys  shall  die,  and  I  do 
not  care."  Nature,  as  interpreted  by  matei'ial  law,  gives  bhlh  to  men, 
throws  them  out,  as  it  were,  into  this  wilderness,  and  says  to  every- 
one, "Let  strength  prevail."  Life  is  called  a  " battle  of  existence." 
Men  sufi"er.     They  are  told,  coolly,  that  they  have  broken  the  law, 

SusDAY  Morning,  Nov.  7,  1869.— Lesson  :  Heb.  XL  1—17.  Hyjixs  (Plymouth  Collection): 
N08.  217,  878. 


134:  TEE  OOMFOBTING  GOD. 

and  that  they  must  expect  to  suffer.  Are  they  that  enjoy  always 
keepers  of  the  law  ?  That  question  is  not  often  mooted.  But  there  is 
with  many,  looking  into  the  course  of  nature,  a  sense  of  its  hardness 
and  coldness — especially  to  all  such  as  are  on  the  shadowy  side  of  its 
favors.  And  when  they  open  the  word  of  God,  and  find  that  God  is 
not  a  governing  force  alone,  but  a  tender  Father,  who  thinks  of  men, 
and  cares  for  then-  infirmities,  just  as  a  father  in  the  household  thinks 
of  his  chUdi'en,  and  cares  for  then-  infirmities,  not  taking  delight  in 
those  that  ai"e  grown  up  half  so  much  as  in  those  that  are  not  grown, 
whose  very  mistakes  are  in  some  sense  dear  to  him — when  they  find  in 
the  revelation  of  God  such  a  Being  as  this,  it  is  a  source  of  great  cheer 
and  comfort  to  them. 

Consider  this  passage,  then,  as  a  revelation  of  God's  disposition. 
"Now  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself."  That  is  much,  but  there  is  more — 
"  and  God."  And  then,  as  if  that  word  God  would  not  be  fruitful  in 
their  imagination — "even  our  Father."  That  brings  him  down  and  draws 
him  very  near.  And  as  if  the  word  Father,  as  applied  to  a  Being  who 
has  such  an  immense  family — the  universe — were  not  enough,  the  apostle 
still  qualifies  it — "which  hath  loved  us."  And  as  if  that  declaration 
would  require  stUl  further  opening,  he  adds,  "  and  hath  given  us  ever- 
lasting consolation,  and  good  hope  through  grace" — breaking  away 
the  misty  horizon,  and  giving  us  to  see  the  whole  sweep  and  strength 
of  the  coming  life.  But  as  that  is  something  afar  off,  the  apostle  seems 
to  go  back  again  and  show  that  not  alone  this  future  glory,  but  some- 
thing nearer  and  more  personal,  is  given.  "Now  om-  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
himself,  and  God,  even  our  Father,  which  hath  loved  us,  and  hath  giv- 
en us  everlasting  consolation  and  good  hope  through  grace,  comfort 
your  hearts,  and  stablish  you  in  every  good  word  and  work." 

Now,  if  a  man  is  comforted  in  his  very  heart,  and  if  he  is  estab- 
lished in  every  "  word  "  (in  all  his  sayings),  and  in  every  "  work  "  (in 
all  his  doings),  what  more  can  -he  have?  What  more  can  a  man 
ask  than  a  revelation  which  brings  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  near  to  him 
as  his  personal  Friend,  and  God  as  his  Father,  with  the  promise  in  his 
hand  of  immortality  and  glory  ;  hope  through  grace  being  bi-ought  in 
to  comfort  him,  and  to  comfort  him  in  the  very  source  of  his  feelings, 
his  heait — and  to  give  him  that  comfort  not  as  a  mere  luxury,  but  in 
such  a  way  that  it  shall  work  out  in  practical  forms,  and  establish  him 
in  the  whole  of  his  life — in  all  that  he  speaks,  all  that  he  purposes,  and 
all  that  he  does  ? 

I  cannot  read  such  a  passage  as  this  without  feeling  that  it  is  like  i 
mother's  putting  her  hand  on  her  child's  head  and  soothing  it,  and 
stroking  down  its  curls,  and  fondling  it,  or  purting  her  arms  about  it, 
and  caressing  it.      A&  a  mother  not  simply  speaks,  but  in  a  thousand 


TEE  COMFORTING  GOB.  135 

■winning  ways  carries  out  the  words  in  practice,  so  when  I  read  this 
passage,  it  is  as  though  God's  Spirit  caressed  me,  and  was  bringing  me 
comfort.  "  Now  our  Lord  Jesus  Clnist  himself,  and  God,  even  our 
Father,  which  hath  loved  us,  and  hath  given  us  everlasting  consolation, 
and  good  hope  through  grace,  comfort  youi*  hearts,  and  stablish  you 
in  every  good  word  and  work."  It  is  music  to  me,  it  has  been  music 
to  many,  and  I  tnist  that  it  is  music  to  many  here. 

Consider,  also,  the  sympathy  and  the  fatherly  aspect  in  which  God 
is  here  represented,  as  contrasted  with  the  sterimess  and  rigor  of  that 
holy  God  that  is  taught  and  conceived  of  too  often.  It  is,  to  be  sure, 
true  that  God  is  the  Vindicator  of  truth,  and  that  he  will  not  spare, 
finally,  the  guilty.  It  is  true  that  oui-  God  is  a  "consuming  fire."  It 
is  true  on  the  one  hand  that  there  is  an  element  and  that  there  ai-e  attri- 
butes of  God  which  are  fitted  to  deal  with  matter,  with  pure  force,  with 
resisting  dispositions  that  live  in  gi'oveling  appetites  and  passions,  and 
are  unsusceptible  to  any  higher  motives,  and  must  be  roused  up  and 
stimulated  by  the  vigor  of  these  lower,  and,  I  might  say,  physical  mo- 
tives. And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  true  that  there  is  a  side  of  God 
which  is  fitted  to  be  preached  to  men  in  then-  lowest  savagism,  and 
which  has  a  certain  stimulating,  rousing  power.  It  is  that  view  of  God 
which  is  to  be  preached  when  nothing  else  will  reach  men. 

How  is  it  with  a  father  who  chides  his  son?  Fu-st  he  says,  "Stop, 
my  son,  and  think."  If  that  does  not  do,  he  says,  "  Remember  that 
my  feelings  are  bound  up  in  you.  I  beseech  of  you,  consider  this. 
Take  it  to  heart."  If  the  boy  will  neither  take  it  to  head  nor  to  heart, 
then  the  father  intei'poses,  and  says,  "My  son,  it  must  not  be."  And 
if  that  is  not  sufiicient,  he  says,  "  It  shall  not  be.  I  stand  here  not 
only  to  make  you  happy,  but  to  make  your  brothers  and  sisters  happy ; 
and  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  stand  in  the  way  of  then-  happiness."  He 
tries  the  child  with  reason,  and  afiection,  and  authority ;  and  if  the 
child  is  insensible  to  all  of  these,  he  tries  a  \\ii\e  physical  persuasion  ; 
and  that  brings  the  child  to. 

How  was  it  ?  The  child  was  living,  as  it  were,  down  so  low  in  his 
nature  that  he  was  susceptible  to  no  other  than  a  physical  motive ;  and 
this  alternative  motive  was  ready  when  nothing  else  would  do.  It 
was  the  most  desperate  remedy. 

It  is  so  with  God.  The  fullness,  the  blossom  of  his  nature  resides 
up  in  the  realm  of  intelligence  and  moral  excellence  and  affection ;  and 
if  men  only  know  how  to  pluck  the  fruit  of  the  higher  life,  they  shall 
always  be  dealt  with  by  gentleness,  and  sweetness,  and  caressing  ten- 
derness :  but,  rather  than  that  they  should  perish,  God  interposes  his 
authority,  and  says,  "  I  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty.  He  that  sins, 
let  him  do  it  at  his  peril."     And  if  this  does  not  tm-n  the  man,  then  God 


136  THE  COMFORTING  OOD. 

is  a  "consuming  fire"  to  him.  God  meets  him  at  every  step  and  stage 
of  the  way  down,  and  at  eveiy  point  in  his  organization,  with  the 
appropriate  stimulus  which  belongs  to  the  condition  that  he  may  hap- 
pen to  be  in. 

That  which  is  the  best  adapted  to  the  human  condition  is  God's 
favor.  When  Moses  said,  "  God,  show  me  thy  glory,"  God  refused  to 
show  him  his  gloiy  in  the  sense  in  which  he  thought  of  it — that  is, 
with  the  scenic  outflash  of  all  creation,  revealing  angels  trooping 
about  the  throne,  and  exhibiting  all  the  manifestations  of  divine  power. 
Moses  thought  to  see  wonderful  visions ;  but  God  said,  "  I  wUl  show 
you  my  goodness"  It  is  as  if  God  rebuked  the  false  notion  which 
Moses  had,  and,  pointing  to  his  goodness,  said,   "This  is  my  glory." 

What  is  God's  goodness  ?  "  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful 
and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth, 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity,  and  transgression 
and  sin."  Although  he  brought  up  the  end,  by  saying,  "and  that  will 
by  no  means  clear  the  guilty,"  you  see  there  was  but  one  clause  of  that, 
while  all  the  other  branches  and  twigs  of  the  the  sentence  were  of 
mercy  and  goodness. 

If  God  were  permitted  to  be  good  to  you  all  the  time,  he  never 
would  be  anything  else.  He  is  severe  only  when  you  need  severity. 
It  is  not  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  any  desii-e  to  inflict  pain  that  he 
administers  chastisement,  but  to  fulfill  the  declaration,  "Whom  the 
Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scom-geth  every  son  whom  he  re- 
ceiveth." 

It  is  this  view  of  God  that  men  need — especially  in  communities  like 
ours,  where  they  have  been  trained  to  conceive  of  God  as  the  Guardian 
of  the  law,  which  he  is ;  as  perfectly  holy,  which  he  is ;  as  lifted  infinitely 
above  human  weakness  and  imperfection,  which  he  is  ;  as  an  ideal  and 
abstraction  of  everything  that  is  sublime  and  noble,  which  he  is.  When 
you  come  to  make  use  of  your  God,  and  you  only  have  a  God  that 
is  an  abstraction,  how  cold,  how  vapory,  how  remote  he  seems !  Thd 
vaster  he  is,  the  less  tangible  and  the  less  useful  he  becomes.  When 
you  conceive  of  God  simply  as  a  being  that  is  holy,  and  that  looki 
upon  sin  with  abhorrence,  you  cannot  di"aw  near  to  him.  Fear  stands 
between  you  and  him.  What  men  need  in  then*  discouraged  state,  i\ 
the  view  of  a  God  who,  though  holy,  though  ideally  perfect,  and  thougK 
infinitely  lifted  up  above  all  imperfections  of  every  kind,  is  neverthe 
less  a  Father  in  tenderness,  in  gentleness,  in  sweetness,  and  in  perse- 
vering and  patient  industry  of  recovery.  What  men  need  is  the  view 
of  a  God  who,  though  he  never  experienced  sin,  knows  every  inflec- 
tion of  it,  every  approach  of  it,  every  proportion  of  it,  eveiy  complica- 
tion of  it,  and  eveiy  excuse  for  it :  and  knows  it,  not  to  hate,  but  as  a 


THE  COMFOBTING  GOD.  137 

benevolent  physician  knows  the  disease  of  his  patient,  to  cure  it ;  or  as 
a  kind  teacher  knows  the  fault  of  his  pupil,  to  eradicate  it ;  or  as  a 
parent  knows  the  ugly  temper  of  his  child,  to  overcome  it,  and  loves  the 
child,  sometimes,  almost  in  proportion  to  that  ugliness.  This  view  of 
God  which  presents  him  as  the  all-helpful  One,  not  separating  himself 
from  sinners,  but  giving  them  power  to  come  back  to  him,  is  the  view 
that  gives  cheer  and  comfort,  and  is  the  one  given  in  our  text. 

Consider  the  hopeful,  genial  spirit  which  one  acquires  by  familiarity 
with  such  a  view  of  his  Father  as  this.  If  we  were  left  in  this  life  to 
fight  our  own  battle  alone ;  if  we  were  placed  in  the  midst  of  natm-al 
laws  only,  and  left  to  obey  them  as  best  we  could,  I  do  not  understand 
how  we  could  have  much  moral  buoyancy. 

Ancient  literature  is  divided  into  two  parts.  There  is  on  one  side 
the  jeering,  scoffing  literature  of  men  that  had  no  moral  feeling  ;  but 
on  the  other  hand,  almost  universally  we  find  that  literature  has  a  strain 
of  sadness  running  thi'ough  it.  The  problem  of  human  life,  of  develop- 
ment in  society — the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  in  other  words — ap- 
peared to  them  so  mysterious,  and  so  obscure,  that  there  is  an  undertone 
to  the  highest  literature  of  the  unenlightened  world ;  and  it  is  a  tone 
that  has  found  a  response,  I  suppose,  in  almost  every  reflective  man's 
bosom. 

If  you  look  into  this  world,  and  see  that  men  were  born  almost  as 
animals ;  that  there  is  no  revelation  of  what  nature  is  ;  that  the  race 
has  been  obliged  to  grope  for  knowledge  as  to  the  very  first  laws  of 
existence ;  that  they  did  not  even  know  the  composition  of  the  air 
which  they  breathed,  and  which  was  indispensable  to  them ;  that  they 
were  under  the  necessity  of  carrying  a  multiplex  machine  whose  health 
and  condition  depended  on  a  thousand  cu-cumstances  which  were  not 
made  known  to  them ;  that  they  have  been  stumbling  upon  diseases 
which  no  knowledge  was  given  them  to  foresee  or  avoid ;  that  through 
ages  they  have  sought,  groaning  and  suffering,  to  find  out  fiicts  essen- ' 
tial  to  their  safety  and  comfort ;  that  theu'  life  has  been  spent  in  study- 
ing to  ascertain  what  the  heavens  mean,  and  what  the  earth  means, 
having  been  obliged  to  find  out  these  things  for  themselves,  while, 
if  there  was  a  God,  he  sat  in  grim  silence  behind  the  cloud,  and  looked 
on  with  unconcern — if  you  behold  human  life  from  this  side,  it  is  dis- 
iial  beyond  conception.  Under  such  circumstances,  the  world  seems 
J.ke  a  dungeon,  men  seem  like  prisoners,  and  God  seems  like  a  jailor, 
who  watches  the  bolt  and  key,  and  puts  bread  and  water  through  the 
grates  for  them,  and  lets  them  alone.  Wherefore  we  find  in  Jesus 
Christ  a  revelation  of  the  paternity  of  God,  coming  in  to  relieve 
this  agonizing  suspense,  this  terrific  strife,  which  disturbs  men's 
thoughts  in  respect  to  the  economies  of  nature.     And  when  God  is 


138  TEE  COMFORTING  GOD. 

represented  in  our  text  as  Father,  how  full  of  cheer  and  consolation  ia 
the  view  which  is  presented ! 

This  view  of  comfort  which  is  contained  in  our  text,  may  be  carried 
out  in  many  particulars.  Christian  life  is  ordained  to  comfort  us  in 
GUI"  struggles,  for  instance,  with  fear.  "  Fear  hath  torment."  It  is  a 
tormentor.  It  haunts  men,  night  and  day.  Great  feai'S  may  come  sel- 
dom ;  but  the  poison  emery,  the  dust  of  fear,  comes  in,  as  it  were,  at 
every  crevice,  and  settles  down  upon  every  fair  thing  in  life.  There 
are  innumerable  petty  fears.  There  are  ten  thousand  little  hauntings. 
How  full  is  life  of  feai*  which  takes  away  from  men  the  enjoyment  of 
their  prosperity!  Fear  stands  by  the  cradle,  and  threatens  the  mother; 
and  all  her  love  and  thankfulness  cannot  make  her  happy  while  fear 
scowls  and  threatens.  The  sj^ectre  of  fear  hovers  between  lovers,  and 
they  di'ead  and  suffer.  It  shoots  like  a  meteor  along  the  twilight  med^ 
itations  of  evening.  It  hides  the  sun  at  noonday  with  clouds.  It 
thi'eatens  health  with  sickness,  and  sickness  with  death,  and  death  with 
numberless  terrors.  Cares  are  the  offspring  of  fear.  They  sting  like 
noxious  insects  in  tropical  nights.  Fear  discourages  poverty.  It  takes 
ease  away  from  riches.  It  is  the  peraecutor  of  ambition.  It  is  the 
parasite  of  conscience.  It  plants  upon  conscience  its  own  evil  gro^vth, 
untU  sometimes  conscience  is  but  an  inquisitor,  with  a  whip  of  scor- 
pions. Fear  pei*petually  exaggerates.  It  is  always  changing,  and 
coming  up  in  new  forms,  and  always  dread  forms.  It  is  full  of  Ulu 
sions.  All  the  way  thi-ough  it  is  undermining,  underminLog,  under- 
mining, the  joys  and  hopes  of  life.  And  all  tliis,  too,  in  the  realm 
where  Christ  has  been  revealed.  Go  from  house  to  house  and  mark 
down  how  large  a  play  there  is  of  fear ;  how  much  of  motive  is  fear ; 
how  largely  men  work  for  fear  of  more  suffering  than  they  choose  to 
have.  And  see  how  men  are  restrained  by  fear,  standing  in  the  place 
of  conscience.  See  how  fear  is  like  broken  glass,  every  particle  of 
which  cuts  the  foot  that  treads  on  it.  How  is  fear  the  destroyer  of 
men's  peace,  perpetually  rasping  them,  and  beating  them  with  small 
whips,  or  large  ones ;  as  the  case  may  be.  One  would  think  that  the 
name  of  the  God  who  governs  this  world  was  Fear. 

Right  over  against  the  gloomy  face  of  fear  stands  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  these  words  of  ineffable  cheer:  "Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  him- 
self, and  God,  even  our  Father,  which  hatn  loved  us,  hath  given  u3 
everlasting  consolation,  and  good  hope  through  gi-ace,  comfort  your 
hearts  !"  That  is  just  what  hearts  that  are  sick  want — comfort ;  and 
they  have  it  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  in  the  fatherhood  of  God,  and  no- 
where else,  in  such  measure,  or  with  such  pertinency  of  application. 

Consider,  too,  the  discom-agements  which  men  endure  from  /in  ex- 
acting conscience.      How  numberless  they  are !      Conscience  gi^es  to 


TEE  COMFORTING  GOD.  139 

lil'e  a  certain  rigor  which  makes  it  almost  fruitless  of  joy.  Men  wres- 
tle with  their  conscience,  and  throw  it  off  entirely,  and  then  it  acts  only 
as  a  remorse.  If  conscience  is  active,  and  men  are  looking  out  before- 
hand for  the  path  of  duty,  what  infinite  anxieties  does  it  excite  !  And 
when,  from  day  to  day,  men  measure  then*  real  life  by  their  ideal  of 
life,  what  numberless  sorrows  does  it  bring !  What  discoui-agenients 
do  men  feel  who  are  living  by  conscience !  One's  ideal  is  forever  rising, 
and  conduct  never  keeps  pace  with  duty.  There  is,  therefore,  always 
this  fatal  discord  between  the  ideal  and  the  real.  And  if  a  man  is  at- 
tempting to  live  by  conscience,  he  is  going  through  that  struggle  which 
is  described  in  the  7th  of  Romans.  He  would  fain  do  good.  The  law, 
the  rule  of  goodness,  is  holy  and  just.  He  loves  it  "after  the  in- 
ward man."  His  reason  approves  it,  and  his  moral  sentiments  approve 
it,  and  he  strives  after  it.  But,  when  he  would  do  good,  evil  is  present 
with  him.  And  this  is  the  experience  of  eveiy  man  who  is  attempting 
to  live  by  his  conscience. 

Then  comes  the  declaration,  "God,  your  Father,  who  has  loved  you, 
and  given  you  hope  of  immortality,  will  also  comfort  you  in  this  very 
strife  and  struggle  of  your  conscience." 

Contrast  this  summery  cheerfulness,  this  happiness  of  the  apos- 
tle's exhortation,  with  that  desolateness  which  springs  up  in  men  who 
look  out  upon  spiritual  life  at  large,  as  a  part  of  the  kingdom  of  Jesus 
Christ  in  this  world.  How  disconsolate  the  cause  of  God  has  often 
seemed  among  men !  The  force  of  society  is  so  strong,  the  force  of 
custom  is  so  strong,  the  strifes  of  life  are  so  strong,  and  the  lower  ani- 
mal passions  are  so  immeasurably  stronger  than  the  moral  sentiments 
and  the  reason,  that,  when  men  think  that  it  is  a  part  of  the  divine 
economy,  and  that  the  duty  is  mcumbent  upon  each  one  to  bring  up 
that  kingdom  in  "which  dwelleth  righteousness,"  and  that  right  over 
against  this  kingdom  is  a  gulf  stream  of  corrujDtion,  they  are  disconso- 
late at  the  work.  They  say,  "There  is  no  use.  The  little  that  a  man 
can  do  bears  no  proportion  to  the  vast  wilderness  that  grows  with  ram- 
pant luxuriance  in  iniquity." 

What  if  a  man  should  attempt  to  reclaim  all  the  land  on  the  globe, 
the  earth  being  his  firm?  What  if  he  should  undertake  to  di-ain 
all  the  marshes,  enrich  all  the  desei'ts,  subdue  all  low  and  untractable 
ground,  and  put  in  the  plow,  and  bring  to  harvest  the  toll  of  every 
acre  of  ground?  What  a  discouraging  business  that  would  be  I  When 
a  man  had  worked,  and  put  other  men  to  work,  as  much  as  he  could, 
he  would  not  have  clipped  the  fringes  of  the  forests,  even.  His  work 
would  be  contemptible,  in  comparison  with  the  task  he  had  set  out  to 
perform.  If  a  man  has  five  hundi-ed  acres ;  if  he  has  half  of  that ;  yes. 
if  he  has  a  hundi-ed  acres,  or  even  half  of  that,  he  has  all  that  he  can 


I— 


140  THE  COMFORTING  GOD. 

properly  cultivate.  If  he  is  a  good  farmer,  ten  acres  are  enough.  But 
if  a  man  should  attempt  to  take  in  the  whole  globe,  and  eradicate  the 
rocks,  and  subdue  the  wildernesses,  and  cleanse  the  soil  of  all  noxious 
things,  and  plant  good  seed,  and  give  them  the  sun  and  air  which  they 
need,  and  to  do  it  in  his  life-time,  or  any  considerable  part  of  it,  would 
it  not  damp  his  enterprise  and  discourage  his  industry  ? 

Yet  that  is  easy  compared  with  bringing  up  the  race  on  the  globe 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  Lord  Jesiis  Chi-ist,  and  to  the  sweetness  of  that 
love  which  is  breathed  by  Christ  on  the  human  soul.  "When  you  look 
upon  the  work  of  God  in  regenerating  a  single  human  soul,  it  is  multi- 
tudinous ;  it  is  infinite.  And  when  men  go  from  the  individual  to  the 
household,  and  from  the  household  to  the  neighborhood,  and  from  the 
neighborhood  to  the  village,  and  from  the  village  to  the  city,  and  from 
the  city  to  the  state,  and  from  the  state  to  the  nation,  and  trom  the 
nation  to  all  nations,  and  look  upon  the  cause  of  God  everywhere,  and 
think,  "  This  is  the  work  which  is  purposed  of  God  in  the  truth, 
and  by  his  providence,  and  his  grace,  and  every  one  of  us  is  enlisted 
in  it,  as  soldiers,  teachers,  husbandmen,  laborers  in  God's  vineyard," 
they  are  discouraged.  They  say,  "The  declaration  of  Christ  that 
the  field  is  the  world,  must  be  a  figure  of  speech."  And  how  few 
people  there  are  who  hang  over  the  globe,  and  take  in  the  ages,  as 
Christ  did,  feeling  for  men,  and  bearing  them  in  the  bosom  of  his  care 
and  thought !  How  many  there  are  that  look  out  upon  the  great  work 
of  God  in  this  world, — the  work  that  is  dear  to  him,  and  the  work  that 
must  come  to  pass, — as  a  child,  in  a  stormy  evening,  from  the  fisher's 
cottage  door,  looks  upon  the  thundering  sea,  and  the  scowling  heavens, 
and  dares  not  go  out,  but  shudders,  and  shuts  the  door,  and  sets  him- 
self down  in  his  own  little  quiet  nook !  And  when  men  attempt  this 
work,  how  discouraged  they  become !  How  they  need,  above  all  other 
things,  a  strengthening  faith,  a  cheerful  hope,  and  a  sense  of  God  pre- 
sent, and  omnipotent  in  goodness,  to  bring  confidence  to  theii*  discom- 
agement  ! 

But  more  familiar,  perhaps,  and  universal,  are  the  sadnesses  which 
spring  up  in  our  domestic,  om*  economic,  our  secular  life.  The  whole 
economy  of  labor,  of  weariness,  of  ill-health,  of  straitened  cii'cumstan- 
ces,  of  poverty,  of  strifes,  of  misunderstandings,  of  af)prehensions,  of 
anxiety  as  to  what  we  shall  eat  and  diink  and  wear ;  the  conflict  of 
fi-iends ;  the  annoyances  which  are  occasioned  by  the  falling  out  of 
others  around  about  us  ;  the  ten  thousand  misadventures,  no  one  of 
which  is  much  in  itself,  but  which  in  the  mass  are,  like  a  cloud  of  dust, 
annoying — these  come  in  to  destroy  our  peace.  And  how  many  there 
are  who,  week  by  week,  think  of  the  Sabbath  day  as  a  vacation  from 
care ! 


TEE  COMFORTING  GOD.  141 

There  are  many  that  walk  well-clad,  and  in  velvet,  whose  way  is 
easy,  and  who  have  no  anxieties  as  to  their  life ;  and  yet,  withm  the 
sound  of  their  voice  are  scores  and  hundreds  who  awake  from  uneasy 
di-eanis,  saying,  "  Give  me  this  day  my  daily  bread."  You  do  not 
know  what  scope  there  is  in  that  petition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  You 
do  not  know  how  many  there  are  who  look  upon  theii*  childi^en  and  put 
a  mother's  heart  into  that  prayer,  and  send  it  throbbing  before  God — 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  You  do  not  know  how  many 
there  are  to  whom  fear  comes  as  a  barbed  arrow  from  the  bow  of  pov- 
erty. You  do  not  know  how  many  are  goaded  by  duty.  You  do 
not  know  how  many  there  are  in  this  congregation  who  thank  God  that 
he  has  given  them  a  dress  sufficient  to  enable  them  to  sit  in  the  midst 
of  his  people  unwatched  and  unrebuked.  You  do  not  know  what  a 
fight  is  going  on  in  the  lives  of  many.  There  ai'e  lions  and  bears  and 
tigers  in  the  wilderness  and  in  the  desert ;  but  I  tell  you  there  are  no 
such  wild  beasts  as  those  which  are  in  men's  houses  and  spheres  of  life. 
There  are  ten  thousand  misunderstandings,  and  quarrels,  and  misappre- 
hensions, which,  mingled  in  life's  cuj),  make  it  bitter;  and  men  diink 
it  to  the  very  dregs. 

All  is  not  as  fair  as  it  seems.  And  when  our  streets  are  swept  and 
garnished,  I  sometimes  walk  in  them  as  in  a  vain  show,  and  say  to  my- 
self, "  Why  need  men  go  to  theatres  ?  What  dramas  there  are  here  !" 
Every  house  is  a  stage  where  plays  are  enacted.  The  old  saying  is 
that  there  is  a  skeleton  in  every  house.  A  skeleton  ?  There  are  a  hun- 
Ui'ed  of  them  in  some  houses,  that  stalk  all  night  and  walk  all  day,  in  the 
form  of  miseries  and  troubles  and  trials — and  that  among  persons  who 
call  themselves  Christians.  How  few  there  are  that  are  sweet-tempered ! 
How  few  there  are  that  are  serene !  How  few  there  are  that  know 
what  peace  means,  even  for  one  hour !  How  few  there  are  that  have 
the  mark  of  God  on  their  brow,  and  in  theu-  eye  !  How  few  there  are 
who  cany  with  them  the  summer  of  faith  and  the  serenity  of  victory ! 
How  few  there  are  that  carry  the  presence  of  God  with  them  !  How 
few  there  are  that  are  really  ha})py ! 

Now,  in  the  midst  of  this  vast  and  ever-unwearied  breaking  of  the 
gm-ge  on  the  shore  of  experience,  how  cheerful,  how  joyous  are  the 
,  words  of  God !  There  is  one  reason  why  the  Bible  will  never  be  upset 
just  as  long  as  the  world  lasts.  You  may  prove  to  me  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  inspu-ation  ;  you  may  prove  that  this  Book  was 
dug  out  of  a  rock;  you  may  destroy  the  prophets'  authority;  you 
may  take  from  the  apostles  their  authority ;  you  may  take  away  the 
theory  that  the  Bible  came  in  any  sense  from  God.  Yet  there  is  that 
m  this  Book  which  will  keep  it  intact  and  make  it  potential  as  long  aa 
there  is  a  heart  to  feel  sorrow  or  to  beat  with  hope.    It  is  its  humanity 


142  TEE  COMFORTING  GOD. 

It  is  its  courage.  It  is  the  might  and  power  of  its  love.  It  is  the  vast 
sympathy  which  wraps  mankind  as  the  atmosphere  wraps  the  globe.  It 
is  its  thought  and  care  for  men  in  all  their  wants.  For  the  poor,  the 
needy,  the  weak,  the  helpless,  the  crying,  the  sighing,  the  discouraged, 
the  down-trodden,  the  unvictorious,  the  captives,  little  childi'en,  mighty 
monarchs,  peasants,  nobles — for  all  men — there  is  here  a  throb  and  a 
yearning.  There  are  thousands  of  blessings  held  out  to  them — strength, 
bread,  fruit,  water,  wine,  swords,  spears — everything  for  humanity — 
whatever  they  need  in  their  masterly  struggles  in  this  world.  This 
Book  is  an  ark  into  which  men  wiU  ran,  as  long  as  the  world  stands, 
for  succor  and  consolation.  And  who  should  have  made  such  a  Book 
as  this,  as  a  way  cast  up  on  which  "  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  re- 
turn, and  come  to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  then* 
heads,"  if  it  be  not  God  ? 

Let  me  read  you  some  of  these  very  points  of  encouragement  from 
this  Book.     Listen  to  a  few  words  from  the  49th  chapter  of  Isaiah : 

Zion  said,  "  The  Lord  hath  hath  forsaken  me,  and  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me." 

Oh !  how  many  have  felt  that  God  had  forsaken  them  !  How  many 
nave  mourned  and  felt  that  the  heavens  over  them  were  brass,  and  that 
the  earth  was  as  the  ashes  of  the  burnt  wilderness ! 

Now  hear  the  answer : 

"  Can  a  woman  forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she  should  not  have  compassion  on 
the  son  of  her  womb  1  Yea,  they  may  forget;  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee.  Behold,  I  have 
graven  thco  upon  the  palms  of  my  hands;  thy  walls  are  continually  before  me." 

What  is  it  in  the  jom-ney,  what  is  it  in  i  the  bivouac,  what  is  it  on 
the  field  where  the  wounded  are  weltering  in  then-  blood,  that  one  last 
looks  upon  ?  There  in  the  hand  is  the  little  daguerreotype  of  the  wife 
and  childi-en.  The  last  gaze  is  on  that.  And  the  Lord  says,  "  Your 
porti-ait  is  graven  on  my  hands.  I  carry  it  on  my  palms,  ever  before 
me.  I  never  lift  up  my  hands  to  the  stars  that  I  do  not  see  it.  I 
never  stretch  out  my  hands  to  fulfill  the  decrees  of  omnipotence,  that 
that  picture  does  not  fall  upon  my  eyes." 

Think  what  language  this  is  to  come  fi'om  the  lips  of  the  Crowned 
Head  of  the  universe.     Think  what  comfort  and  cheer  there  is  in  it. 

Look  at  these  other  words  in  the  40th  chapter  of  Isaiah-  You  do 
not  read  Isaiah  half  enough.     There  are  great  things  in  that  book. 

"  "Why  sayest  thou,  O  Jacob,  and  speakest,  O  Israel,  My  way  is  hid  from  the  Lord, 
and  my  judgment  is  passed  over  from  my  God  ?" 

How  many  of  you  that  have  come  down  to  the  gi'eat  city,  and  wan- 
dered lonesome  along  the  streets,  have  said,  "  There  is  no  person  liv- 
ing, that  I  know  of,  who  cares  for  me.  If  I  were  to  die  to-morrow, 
nobody  would  shed  a  tear  over  me.  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  and  there 
is  nobody  to  think  of  me!"     But  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord : 

"  Hast  thou  not  known  ?  hast  thou  not  heard,  that  the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord, 
the  Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary  7  there  is  no  search 


TEE  COMFORTING  QOD.  I4d 

iDg  of  his  understanding.  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint;  and  to  them  that  have  im 
might  he  inereaseth  strength.  Even  the  youths  shall  faint  and  be  weary,  and  the  young 
men  shall  utterly  fall;  but  they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength; 
they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles;  they  shall  run  and  not  be  weary;  and  they 
»hall  walk  and  not  faint." 

These  are  but  single  blossoms  plucked  out  from  whole  trees  full 
that  abound  in  tliis  gai'den  of  the  Lord. 

Consider,  next,  some  of  the  methods  of  comfort  which  experience 
has  revealed  to  us.  When,  in  our  struggle  of  Christian  life,  we  are 
discom-aged  at  om-  own  pride  and  selfishness  ;  when  we  are  discouraged 
because  we  make  so  little  head  against  our  temper,  because  om-  pas- 
sions seem  not  to  be  overcome,  or  weakened  only  by  the  changes  of 
life  and  the  progress  of  old  age ;  when  we  look  at  ourselves,  and  our 
whole  way  of  life,  and  are  discouraged  thereby,  how  much  sweetness 
and  beauty  and  comfort  and  encouragement  there  frequently  is  in  the 
beautiful  lives  of  others !  We  look  upon  one  and  another,  and  feel 
that  to  look  upon  them  is  a  renewal  of  our  faith — the  embodiment  of 
Christian  peace  and  serenity.  One  single  Christian  in  a  neighborhood, 
I  had  almost  said,  is  enough.  You  do  not  want  a  light-house  at  every 
point  on  the  shore.  One  every  few  leagues  is  sufficient  to  point  out 
the  way.  It  would  be  better,  of  com-se,  if  light-houses  were  multiplied 
&o  as  to  cast  daylight  over  all  the  night  scene ;  but  one  here  and  there 
on  prominent  points  saves  men.  It  would  be  better  if  whole  house- 
holds lived  in  a  serene  and  beautiful  Christian  faith  ;  but  one  faithful 
servant  in  a  household  may  save  it.  I  have  seen  the  slave-woman 
whose  fidelity  was  the  means  of  the  conversion  of  William  Wkt — that 
eminent  Richmond  lawyer.  I  have  known  of  cases  in  which  slaves 
earned  salvation  to  whole  plantations.  I  have  known  domestic  ser- 
vants that  lived  such  disinterested  and  beautiful  lives,  that  members  of 
the  household  were  converted  through  the  influence  of  their  example. 
The  blossoms  are  not  always  on  the  tops  of  the  trees.  They  are  some- 
times on  the  branches  that  are  down  near  the  ground.  I  have  seen 
aunts,  I  have  seen  maiden  sisters,  I  have  seen  plain  sewing  women,  I 
have  seen  the  lowest  in  poverty,  who  stood  with  such  erect,  sweet, 
pure,  heavenly-mindedness,  that  it  was  worth  a  man's  while  to  go  and 
look  at  them,  to  renew  his  own  faith  in  himself  Men  are  frequently 
comforted  and  cheered  by  the  exemplary  lives  of  those  who  are  Uving 
in  Christ  Jesus. 

Sometimes  I  have  heard  these  same  people  say  that  it  was  a  mys- 
tery to  them  that  God  should  have  debarred  them  from  the  usefulness 
that  they  longed  for ;  that  they  should  have  been  made  obscure  ;  that 
they  should  have  no  tongue  for  speaking.  I  laugh  at  them !  Do  y^u 
suppose  (hat  when  a  honeysuckle  blossoms,  and  its  fragrance  goes 
abroad,  it  has  any  idea  how  far  it  goes  ?     It  leaves  the  blossom,  and  the 


144  TEE  COMFORTING  GOD, 

stem  and  vine  know  no  more  about  it.  It  is  wafted  by  the  wind.  It 
is  sent  thi-ough  all  the  neighborhood.  And  the  blossom  does  not  know 
how  it  sheds  its  sweetness  everywhere.  It  is  unconscious.  Do  you 
suppose  a  candle  in  an  eminent  place  knows  how  much  light  it  sends 
out,  or  how  many  see  it  ?  Do  you  suppose  a  star  knows  what  is  said 
about  it  ?  It,  too,  is  unconscious.  And  it  is  the  unconscious  power 
of  a  symmetrical  Clu-istian  life  and  character  that  is  the  very  richness 
and  power  of  it,  frequently. 

So,  too,  the  victorious  issue  of  tried  souls  is  a  comfort  to  those  who 
are  in  the  trial.  When,  on  a  hard  fought  field,  the  shout  goes  up  on 
either  wing,  those  that  are  in  the  centre,  and  are  well  nigh  overcome, 
hearing  it,  know  that  there  is  victory  on  some  pai"t  of  the  field,  and 
take  courage,  and  redouole  then*  blows,  and  press  forward.  Oftentimes 
the  comfort  that  comes  from  seeing  others  victorious,  brings  victory 
to  us. 

Oh  !  to  see  men  that  have  been  much  tried  get  through  safely  ;  to 
stand  by  men  who  feared  death,  and  see  them  go  into  the  river  to  find 
that  all  fear  is  taken  away  from  them ;  to  question  them  as  they  go 
deeper  and  deeper,  and  hear  them  say,  "I  fear  no  evU;"  to  hear  their 
voices  after  we  lose  them  from  sight ;  to  hear  the  rustle  of  vague 
sounds,  as  of  heavenly  music  from  that  exceeding  throng  on  the  other 
side,  that  bear  them  victoriously  home — this  gives  comfort.  Can  any 
man  stand  and  witness  the  departure  of  a  man  from  this  life,  and  his 
victory  over  death,  without  feeling  more  fortitude,  more  faith  and  more 
corn-age  for  his  own  battle  ?  No  man  ever  went  thi-ough  where  there 
was  tremendous  odds  against  him,  and  gained  a  victory  for  himself, 
that  he  did  not  gain  a  victory  for  multitudes  besides.  We  do  not  know 
when  we  are  fighting  for  ourselves,  how  many  battles  we  are  fighting 
for  others,  too.  A  man  who  has  overcome  temper,  or  passion,  or  ava- 
rice ;  a  man  who  has  bi'ought  his  whole  life  out  on  a  Christian  plane, 
and  has  been  a  captain  and  not  a  private,  is  made  a  leader  of  multitudes 
beside ;  and  all  that  look  upon  him  feel  that  God  is  establishing  their 
hearts  in  the  way  of  virtue. 

In  this  way  it  is  that  we  derive  great  consolation  from  looking  back 
through  the  lives  of  holy  men.  There  is  a  picture  gallery  opened  in 
the  11th  of  Hebrews.  Paul's  picture  gallery  it  is.  In  England,  a  great 
while  ago,  a  national  gallery  was  gotten  up ;  and  all  the  kings  (the 
poorest  they  had),  and  nobles,  and  literary  characters,  and  scientists, 
and  what  not,  had  a  place  in  it.  It  was  a  very  good  and  noble  thing. 
If  we  were  to  begin  now  it  would  not  cost  us  much,  because  there  are 
not  many  that  we  would  need  to  collect  in  our  day ;  but  this  establish- 
ing a  gallery  which  presents  to  the  eye  pictures  of  men  who  have 
achieved  and  done  worthily  is  a  glorious  conception,     Paul  set  up  one, 


THE  COMFORTINO  GOD.  145 

and  gathered  all  the  poor  and  needy,  and  those  that  were  counted  un- 
worthy of  honor,  and  set  them  around  about  this  magnificent  chapter — 
more  magnificent  than  any  other,  except  the  next  one  to  it.  I  like  to 
go  round,  as  Paul  did,  and  look  upon  them,  and  think  how  they  suf- 
fered, and  what  they  achieved,  and  how  long  their  power  has  lasted. 
There  too  are  the  singers,  and  they  are  singing  still.  David  was  never 
so  musical  as  to-day.  There  are  the  wise  and  the  philosophic.  The  Pro- 
verbs of  Solomon  were  never  so  fitting  as  to  day.  There  are  the  sub- 
lime old  teachers  and  statesmen  indeed — the  prophets  that  attempted 
to  foiind  commonwealths  on  moral  ideas.  They  were  never  so  wise, 
and  thek  wisdom  was  never  so  much  in  place,  as  to-day.  There  are  all 
those  men  that  were  hewn,  and  exiled,  and  diiven  out  in  the  oldeu 
time. 

Now,  let  us  open  a  Christian  gallery,  and  take  all  men  that  have  been 
martyrs ;  all  men  that,  for  the  sake  of  maintaining  truth,  have  left  home 
and  country,  and  lived  in  mountains  and  caves ;  all  men  that  have  ex- 
iled themselves,  and  wasted  then-  lives  in  dungeons  and  hospitals ;  all 
men  that  hjtVe  stood  patiently  in  then-  lot,  and  suffered,  and  died,  and 
gained  theu'  victory,  and  gone  to  glory.  I  look  upon  the  portraits  of 
these  men,  and  say,  "That  grace  which  has  carried  every  one  of  them 
through,  can  carry  me  through."  That  grace  which  made  a  saint  out 
of  so  tumultuous  a  natm-e  as  Peter ;  that  grace  which  could  take  such 
a  natm'e  as  John's,  who  invoked  fire  on  the  heads  of  the  villagers 
because  they  would  not  receive  Christ,  and  make  it  so  sweet  that  it 
was  saccharine  :  that  grace  which  transformed  the  most  fiery  temper, 
and  took  away  the  desire  for  vengeance  from  men,  can  subdue  the 
hardness  and  obduracy  of  our  hearts. 

We  are  not  the  first  men  who  have  been  on  God's  forge.  He  has 
had  thousands  on  his  anvil  before.  He  knows  the  infliction  of  every 
instrument,  and  how  to  temjier  every  blow.  It  is  the  same  blessed 
God  that  is  workman  still.  And  when  I  look  upon  the  virtues  of  those 
old  saints,  and  the  victories  that  are  occurring  now,  from  day  to  day, 
I  am  comforted  and  cheered. 

Once  moi"e,  God  comforts  by  the  peculiar  comforting  effect  which 
there  is  in  his  soul  resting  on  ours.  Chiistian  brethren,  do  you  believe 
in  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Do  you  believe  that  God's  sun  actually  comes 
into  contact  with  the  lily,  and  pours  it  full,  warms  it,  and  changes  it  ? 
Do  you  believe  that  the  Holy  Ghost  shines  down  into  the  souls  of  men 
that  open  themselves  to  its  influence  ?  I  do.  I  believe  it  is  the  intrinsic 
nature  of  God,  shining  into  the  soul  that  receives  it,  to  bring  to  it  light, 
and  warmth,  and  hope,  and  cheer,  and  comfort  unspeakable. 

And  that  is  not  the  whole  of  it.  As  it  is  the  nature  of  some  things 
to  be  bitter  and  the  nature  of  other  things  to  be  sweet,  so  it  is  the  na 


146  TEE  COMFOBTINO  OOD 

ture  of  God's  spiiit  to  bring  to  souls  that  peace  which  is  called  one  of 
the  "  fi-uits  of  the  Spuit."  Do  not  you  know  how  diversely  different 
people  affect  you — even  good  people  ?  Some  persons  are  so  sad  that 
when  you  go  into  thek  presence  they  di'aw  you  down  ;  and  when  you 
leave  them  you  feel  that  you  have  wasted  sympathy.  Others  are  so  rigidly 
conscientious  that  when  jou  go  into  their  presence  you  feel  overstrained 
and  keyed  up  in  that  dii'ection.  Some  people  seem  to  suck  sympathy  out 
of  you,  when  you  are  with  them,  so  that  when  you  leave  them  you 
ai'e  as  a  sponge  that  has  been  squeezed  in  the  hand  till  there  is  no  water 
in  it.  But  now  and  then  you  find  a  person  who,  instead  of  affecting 
you  in  any  of  these  ways,  soothes,  sweetens  and  cheers  you,  and  makes 
you  feel  better,  and  more  hopeful.  Blessed  are  those  persons  into 
whose  presence  we  go  rejoicing,  and  out  of  whose  presence  you  come 
still  more  joyful.  And,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  the  quality  of  God's  soul, 
when  it  comes  down  into  ours,  to  fill  it  with  peace — that  peace  "  which 
passeth  all  understanding :"  not  the  peace  of  indolence ;  not  a  supine 
peace,  but  that  peace  which  means  the  harmony  of  every  faculty 
raised  to  the  highest  point  of  normal  excitement.  Perfect  harmony— 
that  is  the  peace  which  God  brings  to  us  when  he  comes  into  our  souls. 
And  oh,  how  full  of  hope  and  comfort  is  this  view ! 

Let  me  not  close  in  my  own  words,  but  in  the  language  of  sacred 

wi'it. 

"  Cast  not  away,  therefore,  your  confidence,  which  bath  great  recompense  of 
reward.  For  ye  have  need  of  patience,  that  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God,  ye  might 
receive  the  promise.  For  yet  a  little  while,  and  he  that  shall  come  will  come,  and  will 
not  tarry.  Now,  the  just  shall  live  by  faith;  but  if  any  man  draw  back,  my  soul  shall 
have  no  pleasure  in  him.  But  we  are  not  of  them  who  draw  back  unto  perdition;  but 
of  them  that  believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul." 

Ye  that  have  to-day  come  into  the  church  of  Christ,  and  entered  up- 
on the  Christian  life,  do  not  look  upon  it  as  a  life  of  storms.  It  has 
its  struggles ;  but  it  has  its  Christ,  that  walks  on  the  waves,  and  rebukes 
the  storm.  Do  not  suppose  that  it  is  a  life  of  mere  luxury,  according 
to  the  secular  idea.  It  is  a  life  of  duty.  It  is  a  life  of  labor  in  the 
cause  of  Him  who  makes  labor  sweet,  and  says,  "  Take  my  yoke  upon 
you,  and  learn  of  me ;  for  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my  burden  light." 

May  God  cheer  you.  May  God  comfort  you.  May  God  bear  you 
through  life  with  such  cheer  and  comfort  that,  by-and-by,  you,  in  turn, 
mav  console  others  with  the  consolation  wherewith  you  are  comforted. 


THE  COMFORTING  GOB.  147 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON* 

O  Lord  our  God,  wo  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  gathered,  in  every  age,  seed  to  serro 
thee.  Although  but  a  handful,  at  limes,  nave  been  faithful  to  thy  name  and  cause,  thou 
hast  been  a  defence  to  them.  Thou  hast  enlarged  their  numbers.  Thou  hast  through 
them  spread  abroad  a  knowledge  of  the  truth.  Through  them  thou  hast  made  known 
thy  power  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  We  rejoice  that  still  there  are  so  many 
tokens  of  thy  presence  among  men.  We  rejoice  that  thou  art  gathering  these  brother- 
hoods—these churches— of  thine  own  children;  and  that  thou  art  manifesting  thyself 
anioug  them,  comforting  them,  strengthening  them,  purifying  them,  and  making  their 
life  to  be  a  guiding  light  to  many  wandering  souls.  We  thank  thee  that  from  time  to 
time  so  many  are  brought  in,  housed  from  the  storm,  and  succored  in  their  extreme 
peril  aud  distress;  and  that  they  take  upon  them  the  name  of  Christ,  and  become  obe- 
dient children  to  him.  We  thank  thee  that  so  many  are  walking  comfortably  in  our 
midst,  with  so  many,  and  such  strong  hopes,  founded  upon  the  faithfulness  of  thy  pro- 
mises. We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  ministered  to  them  such  consolations  and  such 
victories  in  times  of  conflict.  We  thank  thee  that  there  are  so  many  witnesses  in  our 
midst,  that  thy  word  is  yet  powerful,  that  thou  art  gracious,  and  that  thou  dost  forgive 
sins,  and  renew  the  heart,  and  translate  those  that  were  thine  enemies  into  the  kingdom 
of  thy  dear  son,  and  make  them  heii"s  and  children. 

And  now  wo  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  those 
■who  are  gathered  into  our  number  to-day.  We  pray  that  if  they  have  come  from  sister 
churches,  they  may  take  this  occasion  to  renew  their  consecration  of  themselves;  to 
review  all  the  way  in  which  thou  hast  led  them;  to  make  mention  of  thy  mercies  in. 
times  past,  and  to  take  courage  for  the  time  to  come.  May  they  not  abide  among  us 
fruitless,  but  may  they  bring  forth  much  fiuit  to  the  glory  of  God.  And  we  pray  that 
thou  wilt  take  into  thy  fatherly  care  and  keeping  those  dear  ones  who  are  now  gathered 
in  from  the  world,  and  upon  whom  now  rests  the  sacred  name  of  Jesus  for  the  first  time. 
The  prayers  of  beloved  parents  are  answered  in  (hem.  Thou  hast  shown  mercy;  and 
■we  pray  that  now  they  may  be  encircled  by  the  arms  of  thy  mercy,  that  they  may  neither 
stumble  nor  fall.  And  wilt  thou  multiply  to  thim  far  above  their  expectation  the  joy 
and  the  peace  which  there  is  in  believing.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may  walk 
worthy  of  that  high  vocation  by  which  they  are  called.  We  pray  that  others  maybe 
brought  in  by  them.  May  there  be  many  that  shall  like  thyself  go  out  to  seek  and  to 
save  m.en. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  revive  thy  work  upon  every  hand.  In  our  families,  in  all 
the  relations  which  we  sustain,  may  we  be  preachers  of  the  Gospel  to  every  one  around 
about  us.  silently,  by  our  example,  and,  at  fit  times  and  opportunities,  by  word  of  mouth. 
May  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  be  iieard  in  our  midst. 

Comfort,  O  Lord  Jesus!  those  that  are  in  the  shadow.  To  those  that  sit  in  the 
region  and  shadow  of  death,  be  thou  very  gracious  and  very  near.  Be  with  all  that 
wrestle  with  hardness  and  poverty.  Be  with  those  that  are  sodden  with  care.  Draw 
near  to  those  who  are  discouraged  by  any  event  aud  circumstance  in  their  lives.  Breathe 
thy  peace  upon  all  that  are  troubled. 

Grant,  wo  pray  thee,  that  there  may  be  a  fresh  and  joyful  recognition  in  multitudes 
of  hearts,  to-day,  of  thy  power  to  save  not  only  m  death,  but  in  life.  We  pray  that  thou 
wilt  draw  thy  people  so  near  to  thee  that  they  shall  not  seem  as  beggars'  children,  but 
as,  what  they  are,  sons  of  God.  And  though  their  raiment  is  vile,  muy  they  clothe 
themselves  in  thy  righteousness.  Thorgii  they  nave  no  bread  but  that  which  peri.--helh, 
niay  they  reach  up  and  take  that  bread  which  thou  dust  give,  even  thine  own  self.  And 
wo  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  ia  Christian  living  there  may  bo  more  and  more  jny ; 
more  and  more  strength;  more  and  more  victory;  more  and  more  beauty  in  tho  eyes  of 
the  worl  1. 

We  pray,  O  Lord !  that  thou  wilt  succor  those  that  are  wandering.  Bring  back  thos« 

*  Immediately  following  the  reception  of  members  into  the  Church 


148  THE  COMFORTING  GOD. 

that  are  backsliding.  Rescue  any  that  are  in  danger  of  apostaey.  Return  them  to  th« 
Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  their  souls.  And  may  the  way  of  holiness  seem  more  and  more 
to  men  the  way  of  honor  and  of  peace.  And  grant  that  there  may  be  multitudes  who 
shall  throng  it. 

Oh!  bring  in  the  latter  day  glory  which  thou  hast  promised.  Hasten  the  time  when 
all  nations  shall  know  thee.  May  wars  cease,  and  confusions  and  turmoils  and  revolu- 
tions pass  away.  May  that  sun  rise  which  shall  have  no  setting,  and  all  the  earth  see 
thy  salvation. 

We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


X. 

The  Name  Above  Every  Name. 


INVOCATION. 

We  pray  for  thy  presence,  thou  that  hast  taught  us  to  look  upon  the 
sun,  and  to  know  thee  through  its  light  and  -warmth  and  universal  power. 
Come  forth  by  thy  spiritual  energy  into  our  hearts.  Come  to  bring  us  into 
knowledge  from  our  ignorance  ;  to  bring  us  into  growth  from  our  winter's 
death  ;  to  bring  us  into  warmth  and  fervor  therein.  Grant  that  all  that  is 
within  us  may  rise  up  and  acclaim  thy  presence  ;  and  may  we  rejoice  this 
day  together.  Give  us  access  to  thee  in  prayer,  and  in  thoughts  that  pray. 
Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  have  fellowship  with  thee,  and  in 
sacred  song  fellowship  one  with  another.  Bless  the  services  of  devotion  and 
instruction.  And  grant  that  the  reading  of  thy  Word,  and  the  speaking 
therefrom,  and  all  the  ordinances  and  exercises  of  our  service  this  morning, 
may  be  acceptable  in  thy  sight  and  blessed  to  our  good,  through  Christ 
Jesus,  our  Lord.    Amen. 


THE  NAME  ABOVE  EVERY  NAME. 


""WTierefore  God  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name  which  is  above 
every  name."— Phil.  II.  9. 

4»» 


A  name  is  a  call-word,  by  which  we  separate  objects,  and  give  to 
each  its  identity.  The  names  of  familiar  objects,  however,  are  not 
simply  arbitraiy  signs  used  for  separation  and  designation.  In  an  im- 
portant way  they  become  symbols  of  quality  and  attribute.  This  is 
seen  in  the  picture  which  rises  to  the  mind  on  the  use  of  a  name.  The 
word  eagle,  horse,  or  lion  being  spoken,  a  picture  springs  up  to  the 
eye  of  the  imagination.  Let  a  foreign  name  for  the  same  thing  be 
used,  and  no  picture  rises,  although  the  foreign  name  certainly  dis 
criminates  and  separates.  Apple  brings  before  the  minds  of  giddy 
English-speaking  boys  a  very  clear  picture,  although  pomme  does  not. 
Homo  once  had  a  picture  in  it,  but  not  now ;  although  man  has.  There 
IS  a  silent  process  that  goes  on  by  which  in  life  we  are  storing  up,  as  it 
were,  in  a  name,  the  qualities  of  the  thing  that  is  named,  so  that  the 
word  pronounced  is  like  the  opening  of  a  book  of  record,  and  the  show- 
ing of  the  contents  of  things.  Different  words,  therefore,  have  different 
magnitudes,  and  different  degi*ees  of  richness  of  contents,  according  to 
the  attributes  of  the  thing  to  which  they  are  attached. 

We  see  this  more  strikingly  in  the  names  of  men  than  in  the  names 
of  things.  A  whole  village  of  people,  at  least  to  those  who  know  the 
villagers  well,  have  theii'  portraits  in  their  names.  One  might  insti- 
tute a  game  with  lively  children  of  some  imagination  and  quick  fancy, 
letting  each  describe  what  rose  up  to  his  eye  as  a  name  was  called — 
what  he  saw  physically.  As  A  was  called,  there  would  be  a  vision, 
for  instance,  of  one  tall,  thin  and  crooked ;  as  B  was  called,  of  one  fat 
and  lazy  ;  as  C  was  called,  of  one  short  and  dumpy.  And  so,  one  after 
another,  ungainliness,  or  beauty,  or  symmetiy  would  instantly  be 
found  to  be  touched  in  a  child's  mind  by  the  pronouncing  of  a  given 
name.     Or,  if  one  older  were  questioned,  the  different  names  would 

SnNT>AT  MoRNixG,  Nov.  14,  1869, — Lesson  :  Rev,  V.  Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection^ 
Nos.  132,  381,  551. 


150         TEE  NAME  ABO  VE  E  VER  T  NAME. 

biing  out,  instantly,  social  and  economic  qualities.  One  man  would 
be  generous,  and  another  stingy ;  one  would  be  high-minded,  and  anoth- 
er only  "  so  so ;"  one  would  be  good,  and  another  mean.  You  would 
find  that  connected  with  the  name  was  not  merely  the  outward  physi- 
cal history  of  the  man,  but  also  a  certain  element  of  his  character.  And 
those  who  were  still  wiser,  would  go  frnther  and  deeper.  They  would 
see  dispositional  and  moral  elements  in  the  man.  His  faith,  his  zeal, 
his  genius,  his  reflective  qualities,  would  be  stored  up-  in  the  name  by 
which  he  was  called,  to  many.  So  that  a  name  to  those  that  know  but 
little,  means  but  little ;  to  those  that  know  more,  it  means  more  ;  and 
to  those  that  know  most^  it  is  encyclopedaic. 

StUl  further,  we  see  that  personal  names  stand  for  abstract  qualities 
and  excellences.  Thus,  lover,  friend,  father,  child,  mother,  sister, 
nurse — these  terms,  although  they  are  often  aj^plied  to  definite  per- 
sons, have  an  abstract  ofiice.  They  all  go  to  signify  to  us  domestic 
qualities — dispositional  elements.  When  the  word  mother  is  spoken, 
not  only  does  your  mother  come  forth  to  your  imagination  m  feature  and 
in  person,  but  those  qualities  which  make  all  mothers  differ  from  other 
relations — from  sister,  and  nurse,  and  brother — are  suggested  to  youi' 
mind. 

By  the  extension  of  such  a  practice  it  is  that  names  come  to  signify 
not  only  persons  but  historic  qualities.  Socrates  has  almost  no  per 
sonality — at  any  rate,  to  those  who  have  never  seen  his  face ;  but  he 
signifies  philosophic,  common  sense.  Plato  means  pure  thought  and 
imagination ;  Demosthenes,  eloquence ;  Goto,  stern  integrity ;  NerOy 
cruelty ;  Napoleon,  military  genius ;  Washington,  patriotism ;  How- 
ard, philanthi-opy ;  Garibaldi,  the  friend  of  the  common  people.  Men 
thus,  after  a  little,  as  it  w6re,  outgrow  then-  personality,  and  then- 
name  comes  to  signify  some  abstract  vu-tue,  or  vice,  as  the  case  may 
be. 

Thus  we  see  that  a  name,  after  a  little,  is  not  a  simple  wtjrd,  or  a 
dead  sign,  but  a  symbol,  a  living  thing,  full  of  power,  and  full  of  sug- 
gestiveness,  carrying  in  it,  so  to  speak,  the  qualities  of  the  thing  to 
which  it  has  been  attached.  And  when  applied  to  active  beings,,  it  at 
length  epitomizes  in  itself  then*  history,  their  character,  and  beconces  a 
store-house  of  memories,  suggestions  and  imaginations. 

Now,  when  it  is  said  that  the  name  of  Jesus  shall  yet  rise  above 
every  name,  there  is  a  scope  to  the  meaning  of  it,  and  there  is  a  gran 
deur  in  the  sentiment,  which  it  requii-es  some  reflection  to  bring  out 
For,  certainly,  it  is  not  simply  saying  that  he  shall  have  a  name  that  ia 
higher  on  the  list.  We  are  to  give  to  the  term  name  as  applied  to 
him  its  full  proportions  and  richness  and  grandeur  of  meaning.  Al- 
ready it  is  seen  to  be  fulfilled,  that  Christ's  name  is  in  fact  above  that 


TS^  NAME  ABO  VE  E  VER  Y  NAME.  151 

of  any  and  all  earthly  historical  personages.  There  is  not  one  that  we 
can  summon  from  the  gi-eat  family  of  the  Hebrews — venerable  men, 
patriarchs,  prophets,  teachers,  apostles — who,  standing  by  the  side  of 
Christ,  has  a  name  that  produces  upon  the  ima/^ination  or  upon  the 
heart  the  effect  which  his  name  produces.  The  sum  of  their  life  is 
small,  a  mere  pittance,  compared  with  the  magnitude  of  Christ's  life — 
and  that,  too,  in  the  thought  of  the  common  soul. 

If  you  gather  together  the  witnesses  and  the  martyrs  that  have 
lived  in  every  age  since  the  Master  lived — ^the  gi-eat  men  and  the  no- 
bles, of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy ;  the  men  that  died  in  prisons, 
by  the  rack,  and  at  the  stake;  the  men  that  followed  then-  Master 
through  suffering  unto  death — there  is  not  one  name  of  them  all  that 
is  not  dwai-fed  by  the  side  of  the  name  of  Jesus.  There  is  not  one  of 
them  that  has  his  calmness,  his  simplicity,  his  depth,  his  spiritual  fervor 
and  foresightedness,  his  essential  divinity.  There  is  not  one  that  has 
the  compass  of  being  which  all  of  us  perceive  in  him. 

If  you  go  fi-om  the  best  specimens  of  men  to  philosophers,  to  poets, 
to  scholars  who  have  developed  on  the  Greek  side — on  the  side  of 
reason,  that  is — I  need  not  say  that  whatever  admiration  is  bestowed 
upon  them,  no  one  would  di'eam  that  their  name  was  to  be  mentioned 
by  the  side  of  Him  of  Nazareth  and  of  Calvaiy.  Artists,  benefactors, 
the  crowd  of  great  men  that  have  adorned  and  enriched  and  blessed 
the  world — multitudes  there  have  been  of  them ;  but  they  are  each  and 
all  of  them  unspeakably  inferior  to  Christ  in  the  conception  of  men. 
In  the  veiy  thought  and  feeling  of  the  race,  they  are  below  the  name 
of  Jesus.  Cite  any  single  name  from  any  department  of  life,  and  put 
the  name  of  Christ  by  it,  and  it  goes  out  in  a  moment,  as  a  star  goes 
out  when  the  sun  rises. 

Names,  I  have  said,  become  types  of  function,  and  insignia  of 
honor.  Thus,  there  are  judges'  names  that  signify  perfect  justice. 
There  are  names  of  princes  and  kings  that  signify  authority,  splendor 
and  power.  There  are  names  of  generals  that  signify  great  skill  and 
capacity.  But  has  the  world  stored  up  in  any  of  these  names  such  as- 
sociations as  belong  to  the  name  of  Chi-ist  Jesus  ?  Is  there  anj-where 
out  of  Christ  such  a  conception  of  justice,  such  imperialness,  such 
sovereignty,  as  there  is  in  him  ?  Is  government  anywhere  set  forth  in 
colors  so  serene  and  pure,  so  august  and  rightful,  as  in  him  ?  Is  there 
anywhere  else,  in  all  those  names  that  signify  authority,  power  and 
government,  such  paternity  as  there  is  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 
Already  his  name  stands  higher  for  the  very  qualities  which  go  to 
make  courts  illustiious  ;  for  the  very  things  that  make  men  glorious  in 
history.  Once,  a  culprit,  under  the  hand  of  Rome,  which  reached 
through  the  whole  earth,  he  died,  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  and 


152  TEE  NAME  ABOVE  E YER T  NAME. 

made  his  gi-ave  with  the  wicked ;  but  now,  all  through  the  world,  those 
governments  and  those  potentates  that  do  not  acknowledge  and  wor- 
ship the  Son  are  feeble  and  barbarous.  The  wheel  has  turned  around. 
Power  was  with  paganism  when  Christ  was  upon  the  eai-th  :  power  is 
to-day  with  Christianity ;  and  in  all  the  government  in  all  the  world 
where  power  really  inheres,  it  is  true  that  that  name  is,  ostentatiously 
often,  but  whether  ostentatiously  or  not,  really,  placed  higher  than  any 
other ;  and  he  is  to-day  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords. 

But  there  is  even  a  more  important  matter  of  comjjarison.  I  mean 
the  names  of  chief  power  on  the  heart — heart-names.  In  each  quality 
which  makes  the  dearest  names  in  human  life,  Christ  so  excels  that  he 
is  infinitely  above  all  others.  We  think  of  our  Saviour  as  above  us, 
and  as  occupied  with  infinite  government — which  to  most  minds  is  in- 
finite abstraction.  We  are  not  accustomed  to  weave  into  that  name  all 
those  sweet,  familiar  attributes  which  we  see  in  the  household,  or  which 
we  meet  in  a  chcle  of  friends ;  and  yet,  in  respect  to  eveiy  one  of 
those  quaUties  which  go  to  make  names  that  are  dear  to  the  heart,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  infinitely  above  them,  infinitely  superior  to  them, 
in  everything.  All  the  love  and  authority  which  there  is  in  father, 
even  in  the  most  eminent  instances,  and  in  ideal  instances,  is  so  dark, 
compared  with  that  special  element  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  it 
could  scarcely  appear  by  its  side.  Christ  is  more  in  those  very  qualities 
which  make  a  father  dear  to  his  childi'en,  or  a  neighbor  noble  to  his 
neighbors,  than  any  or  all  fathers  or  neighbors.  He  is  infinite  in  those 
things.  All  those  iadescribable  and  tender  graces  which  make  mother 
the  queenly  name  in  all  the  earth,  Christ  has  in  such  abundance  and 
perfectnesb,  that  a  mother's  heart  by  the  side  of  his  would  be  like  a 
taper  at  mid-day.  All  that  which  the  child  yearns  for  while  a  child, 
and  j"emembers  with  home-sickness  afterwards,  when  grown  up  ;  all 
those  qualities  that  make  men  look  back  for  then-  paradise  to  their 
childhood,  and  make  them  feel,  too  often,  that  life  is  a  wilderness,  and 
then-  early  homes  the  place  of  love  and  joy  and  sweet  fruition,  are  not 
so  dominant  iu  father  and  mother  as  they  ai'e  in  Jesus.  He  is  more 
fatherly  than  fathers,  and  more  motherly  than  mothers.  He  is  more 
tender  in  love  than  any  lover  ever  knew  how  to  be.  Language  is 
squandered  and  exhausted  in  the  Bible  to  signify  the  inflections  of  di- 
vine tenderness.  No  love-letter  that  ever  was  wiitten,  or  could  be 
wiitten,  could  compare  with  what  can  be  gathered  out  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments,  describing  the  inflections  of  divine  love  toward  men. 
There  is  no  such  literature  known  as  that  which  shines  and  glows  in 
the  word  of  God,  to  express  love  in  all  its  infinite  inflections. 

The  enduring  intimacy  of  exalted  love  in  true  wedlock  carries  up 
cm-  conception  of  possible  happiness  to  the  very  gate  of  heaven ;  but 


THE  NAME  ABO  YE  E  VEB  Y  NAME.  153 

when  we  have  can-ied  it  to  the  uttermost,  at  the  gate  of  heaven  there 
comes,  as  it  were,  the  outrbursting  light  of  that  mystic  love  of  Christ 
to  his  church,  which  rides  higher  than  poetry  can  follow,  and  higher 
than  experience  ever  went,  or  will  go,  until  the  spirit  is  ransomed  and 
meets  its  Lord. 

So  that  if  you  take  all  the  names  that  we  know  in  history  of  emi- 
nent men  ;  or  all  the  names  that  signify  official  power  and  government; 
or  all  names  of  domesticity ;  if  you  take  those  names  that  are  the  bold- 
est, the  fullest,  and  richest,  and  strongest,  and  noblest;  if  you  take 
those  names  that  the  heart  most  leans  upon,  already  the  name  of  Christ 
is  above  every  one  of  them. 

This  world  is  but  an  outhouse  of  creation.  We  have  not  yet  seen 
the  Avhole.  What  barns  are  to  mansions,  that  this  world  is  to  heaven. 
What  animals  are  to  men,  that  men  are  to  the  superior  beings  of  the 
heavenly  Avorld.  When  we  have  carried  these  suggestions  from  the 
realm  of  experience  \ip  to  the  line  of  the  invisible  and  imagined,  w€ 
shall  find  that  the  name  of  Christ  is  superior  to  them.  There  are  dec- 
larations in  the  word  of  God  that  that  name  which  has  risen  above 
every  name  here,  rises  there  again.  For  there  are  beings  that  rise 
not  only  higher  than  men  in  wisdom,  power,  goodness,  delightful  ness, 
und  companionableness,  but  there  is  a  gi-adation  among  them.  There 
we  dominions,  and  thrones,  and  powers,  and  principalities  in  long  suc- 
cession. As  we  find  long  successions  of  natures  among  men,  and  be- 
low them  still  longer  successions,  all  the  way  down  thi-ough  creation, 
so  we  have  intimations  in  the  word  of  God  that  this  concatenation  is 
continued,  and  goes  up ;  and  we  are  told  that  over  all  these  Christ 
rises — not  by  arbitrary  ranking,  not  by  force,  but  by  the  intrinsic  gran- 
deur of  his  natm-e ;  by  the  essential  grace  and  beauty  of  his  disposi- 
tion. And  because  he  is  "  Chief  among  ten  thousand,"  and  "  alta 
gether  lovely ;"  because  he  is  "  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  first  and  the 
last,  the  beginning  and  the  ending,  the  bright  and  morning  star,"  he 
sits  upon  the  Throne  coequal  with  the  Eternal. 

And  yet,  the  name  of  Chi-ist  is  a  hidden  name.  Yet,  it  is  a  name 
undisclosed.  Far  above  everything  that  is  named  upon  earth,  and  far 
above  everything  that  is  named  in  heaven,  which  is  at  all  understood, 
Lis  name  still  goes  on.  And  not  until  we  are  there — nor  then,  until 
ages  have  rolled  around  and  given  us  an  experience — shall  we  know 
jrhat  is  the  might,  and  what  is  the  height,  and  what  is  the  depth,  and 
what  is  the  length,  and  what  is  the  breadth,  and  what  is  the  universal 
gloiy  of  that  name  which  is  above  every  other  name. 

In  view  of  this  exposition,  I  remark, 

1.  Eveiy  one  must  form  for  himself  a  picture  or  a  nime  of 
his  God.     It  must  be  made  up,  too,  out  of  the  things  which  his  heart 


154  TEE  NAME  ABO  VE  EVER Y  NAME. 

can  appreciate.  You  cannot  find  your  God  in  the  Bible,  or  in  the 
catechism.  I  might  stand  at  the  thi-eshold  of  these,  the  most  sacred 
symbols  or  books  known  to  man,  and  say  to  you  as  the  angels  said  to 
the  early  disciples  at  the  sepulchi-e,  "I  know  whom  ye  seek;  but  he  is 
not  here."  No  man  can  leai-n  his  God  out  of  a  book.  Out  of  nothing 
but  his  own  experience  can  he  learn  it.  Every  man  who  has  a  God 
that  is  more  than  an  empty  name,  has  one  that  has  been  framed  out  of 
the  actual  conceptions  and  thoughts  and  feelings  of  his  own  nature. 
Little  childi'en  fashion  a  God,  sometimes  full  of  fantasy,  and  soraetimea 
full  of  sweet  beauty  ;  and  it  is  their  God,  and  all  the  God  there  is  to 
them.  Every  man  must  take  that  which  is  in  him,  and  for  hirasnlf 
frame  a  name  that  is  to  him  God.  When  you  read  in  God's  word 
of  justice,  what  you  know  of  justice,  and  what  you  think  about  justice, 
will  determine  what  that  element  is,  as  it  enters  into  the  framing  of 
your  God.  If  God  be  "  holy,  and  just  and  good;"  if  he  be  "long-suifer 
ing,"  and  "plenteous  in  mercy,"  what  do  these  names  taken  out  of  the 
sacred  Scripture  mean  ?  To  a  bad  man,  very  little ;  to  a  good  man,  a 
great  deal  more ;  to  a  sainted  man,  still  more.  And  if  any  man  has  a 
conception  of  God  that  touches  his  heart,  and  calls  out  his  fervor  and 
his  self-denial,  and  makes  him  heroic,  and  fills  him  with  joy,  and  with 
a  wholesome  sorrow,  it  is  because  he  has  the  j^ower  given  him  to  fash- 
ion a  God  that  to  him  means  something,  in  the  same  sense  that  his  own 
experience  means  something. 

"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God  " — that  is  to 
say,  the  truth  of  which  this  is,  as  it  were,  the  specification,  is,  that  out 
of  his  own  heart  a  man  gains  the  material  by  which  he  is  to  fashion  to 
himself  a  conception  of  God  that  is  vital  and  imaginatively  visible  and 
potential  upon  his  life ;  so  that  it  is  in  vain  to  suppose  that  God  is  re- 
vealed to  men.  He  is  revealed  so  far  as  history  reveals  him  ;  but  your 
power  to  understand  histoiy  depends  upon  the  development  of  your 
nature.  He  is  revealed  so  far  as  words  and  definitions  can  reveal  him ; 
but  it  is  not  possible  for  words  and  definitions  to  do  more  than  give 
hints  and  symbolizations. 

The  guide-board  stands  pointing  down  the  road,  and  saying,  "This 
is  the  way:  walk  ye  in  it;"  but  that  guide-board  cannot  describe  the 
sceneiy  that  lies  along  the  road.  The  medical  book  can  give  prescrip- 
tions for  certain  symptoms ;  but  the  medicine  is  not  in  the  book.  It  is 
outside  of  the  book.  And  the  Bible  is  a  medicine-book.  The  medicine 
is  not  in  it,  but  the  prescription  is.  The  experiences  of  truth  are  not 
in  the  Bible ;  but  the  indices  of  truth,  the  pointmgs  of  it,  are  there. 
The  experiences  you  must  find  outside  of  that  Book.  You  might  as 
well  have  a  mythological  God,  you  might  as  well  have  the  God  of 
Rome,  as  to  have  the  God  of  the  Westminster  Catechism,  or  the  God 


TEE  NAME  ABO  VE  E  VER  T  NAME.  155 

of  the  New  Testament,  if  it  has  not  been  quickened  by  something  that 
is  in  you ;  if  it  has  not  been  in  some  way  awakened,  and  brought  into 
personal  consciousness  in  yourself,  and  then  taken  out  and  fashioned 
again,  so  that  it  is  a  living  Being  to  you. 

Therefore,  most  men  have  no  God.  Most  men  are  either  idolaters 
or  atheists.  They  worship  some  conception  that  is  sensuous,  and  call 
it  God.  But  calling  it  God  does  not  make  it  God.  There  are  multi- 
tudes of  men  who  still  cling  to  fetiches,  although  they  are  called  Christ- 
ians, or  religious  persons. 

As  I  have  already  said,  a  man  is  to  fashion  his  God  out  of  himself 
If  you  do  not  know  how  to  love,  you  cannot  understand  what  love  is  in 
God.  If  you  are  bound  hand  and  foot  in  utter  selfishness,  you  cannot 
love  a  God  that  has  magnanimity  and  disinterestedness.  If  you  live 
for  the  flesh,  you  cannot  exhale  the  sweet  perfume  of  the  spuit,  as  the 
fragrance  of  the  flower  rises  above  the  form  of  the  blossom.  If  you 
have  no  bright  nature,  how  can  you  understand  the  ineffable,  the 
rfpii-imal,  the  infinite  ?  By  as  much  as  God  becomes  possible  and 
actual  to  you,  by  so  much  you  have  been  transformed  into  that  by 
which  you  now  project,  and  by  the  imagination  refine,  and  give  infi- 
nite proportions  to, — what  you  call  your  God. 

It  18  livv/ig  then,  not  thinking,  that  makes  your  God  to  you.  There 
IS  a  reveiadon  going  on  to  every  man.  There  was  a  revelation  to  Abra- 
ham, to  Isaac,  and  to  Jacob  ;  there  was  a  revelation  to  all  the  judges ; 
there  was  a  rt^velation  to  all  the  prophets ;  there  was  a  revelation  in  the 
»i:>ostolic  era ;  and  these  revelations  were  authoritative.  Inspii'ation  is 
nuii^ersal,  and  coutinues  through  all  time.  It  is  not  authoritative  now, 
as  of  old  it  was  m  special  instances  ;  but  the  fact  itself  goes  on  forever 
and  forever.  An5  only  those  in  whom  God's  spu-it  wakes  up  a  life  and 
nature  kindi-ed  to  tnat  which  is  in  God  himself,  have  the  power  to  un- 
derstand God,  or  to  coiiceive  of  him. 

The  heart  is  a  pailet ;  and  he  that  portrays  God,  portrays  himself 
It  is  what  you  are,  veiy  largely,  that  enters  into  your  conception  ot 
God.  And  oh !  how  many  men  have  devils  for  Gods !  How  many 
men  have  Mammon,  or  Belial,  or  BaaJ,  for  a  God!  How  many  men 
have  their  worst  passions,  or  then-  moral  natm-e  girded  and  shrined  m 
their  animal  passions  for  a  God!  How  many  have  projected  and 
filled  the  heavens  with  the  fearfulness  of  then-  bad  nature  !  And  they 
pray  and  yearn  for  that  which  is  abhorrent  to  the  real  God.  "Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart  " — the  sweet-thinkers  ;  the  sweet-lovers ;  the  piu-o 
natures.  Men  that  live  in  the  serenity  of  then'  moral  sentiments — they 
ai-e  the  men  who  interpret  God  truly,  fii-st,  to  themselves,  and  then,  in 
tui-n,  as  far  as  it  can  be  done,  to  others. 

2.  If  tliis  be  so,  it  becomes  us  individually  to  look  well  to  that  which 


156  THE  NAME  ABO  VE  E  VER  Y  NAME. 

"we  are  fashioning  to  ourselves.  It  is  a  wholesome  question  for  evei*y 
man  to  put  to  himself,  not,  What  is  Jesus  Christ  ?  but,  What  is  viy 
Christ  ?  We  are  conscious  that  we  have  different  Christs — that  is,  tliat 
Chi'ist  appears  differently  to  different  ones.  We  are  familiar  with 
earning  after  each  other's  experiences.  "Oh!"  says  one,  "that  I  could 
have  such  a  joyous  view  as  such  a  Christian  has!  Oh!  that  I  had  such 
a  comfort  of  my  hope  as  I  jDerceive  in  another!"  which,  being  interpret 
ed,  amounts  to  this :  that  different  people  have  very  different  Christs. 
As  you  bring  your  own  life  to  the  fashioning  of  yom-  Christ,  in  some 
respects  he  is  meagi'e.  He  is  yet  "a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  grief "  to  some  of  you.  He  is  to  many  of  you  only  a  conscience, 
sworded  and  armed.  To  still  more  of  you  he  is  but  a  problem,  an  argu- 
ment, an  abstract  statement.  To  many  of  you  God  is  a  power — and  a  phy- 
sical power  at  that — engineering  in  the  heavens ;  while  to  many  others 
he  is  a  power  domineering  on  the  earth.  So  different  men  frame  theii* 
Gods — then-  Christ^Gods — differently.  But  oh !  there  is  no  framing, 
and  no  following  up,  that  is  so  unworthy  of  a  man  as  that  which  is  lean 
and  meagre  and  poor — as  that  in  which  pity  is  less  even  than  in  man, 
or  as  that  in  which  the  commercial  element  is  stronger  than  in  man. 
Where  I  see  God  conditioned,  and  his  mercies  limited,  and  put  upon 
€ne  and  another  ground,  it  being  said,  "If  you  do  so  and  so,  God  will  do 
so  and  so  :  our  God  is  thus  and  so  ;"  when  I  see  men  piece  and  patch 
then-  notion  of  God,  and  cu-cumscribe  the  effluence  and  infinite  sponta- 
neity of  divine  love,  and  the  ovei-flowing  divinity  of  Jesus — when  I  see 
these  things,  it  seems  to  me  that  men  hold  up  here  a  nish  light,  there 
a  wax  torch,  there  a  candle,  and  yonder  a  smoking  pine  knot,  and  call 
them  Gods,  each  worshipping  his  own  light,  while  the  sun  itself,  out  of 
doors,  blazes  all  through  the  hemisphere,  and  should  rebuke  the  mean- 
nejjs  and  poverty  of  the  conception  which  men  have  of  light. 

Om-  conception  of  Christ  is  such  that  we  ai'e  perpetually  in  trepida- 
tion before  him.  We  are  afraid  to  go  to  him.  We  are  afraid  to  con 
fess  om-  sins  to  him.  We  are  afraid  to  trust  his  gi-ace  again.  We  think 
the  stores  of  his  patience  are  exhausted.  We  have  not  known,  we  have 
not  considered,  the  infinity  that  there  is  in  love.  If  love  in  us  is  so 
strong,  if  love  in  us  is  so  full  of  self  denial  and  patience  and  gentleness, 
if  love  in  us  carries  summer  through  our  winter,  and  the  tropics  through 
our  whole  life,  is  our  name  higher  in  that  regard  than  the  name  of 
Chi-ist?  Have  you  pity?  Find  me  pity  that  stands  out  among  men 
remarkable,  and  I  will  place  by  the  side  of  it  the  pity  of  Christ,  and  say, 
"Here  is  a  name  which  is  above  every  name  in  that."  Show  me  mercy 
— ^that  mercy  which  suffers  rather  than  make  suffering — and  over 
against  the  most  saintly  and  notable  instance  that  you  can  find,  I  will 
lift  up  a  name  that  is  above  every  other  name  in  that.     Show  me  a  love 


TEE  NAME  ABOVE  E VER T  NAME.  157 

that  longs  to  die  rather  than  that  another  should  die — ^yea,  that  Ls 
willing  to  live  through  tribulation  and  sorrow  to  do  good  to  those  that 
ai'e  beloved — and  over  against  this  rare  and  wondrous  love,  I  will  lift 
up  a  name  of  love  that  is  above  every  name — the  name  of  Jesus,  that 
rebukes  oui*  want  of  faith,  and  our  want  of  an  elevated  conception,  in 
fashioning  him  to  om-selves. 

3.  Since  our  conceptions  of  God  are  made  up  of  the  best  concep- 
tions and  experiences  of  human  life,  refined  and  idealized,  and  fashioned 
by  the  imagination,  they  will  always  be  under,  and  never  above,  the  re- 
ality ;  so  that  the  mistakes  which  might  be  fatal  in  other  measmings 
ai'e  invalid  and  harmless  in  measming  our  God.  I  like  generosity  ;  but 
not  in  an  apothecaiy.  When  I  buy  my  provision,  the  grocer  may  over- 
measu]-e  as  much  as  he  pleases ;  but  when  I  send  for  medicine,  I  do  not 
thank  the  apothecary  to  over-measure.  If  a  man  is  counting  out  money 
to  me,  and  he  knows  what  he  is  about,  it  does  not  trouble  me  if  for 
hundi'eds  he  counts  thousands,  or  if  for  thousands  he  counts  millions ; 
but  if  he  is  calculating  an  eclipse,  or  performing  any  mathematical 
problem,  I  do  not  thank  him  for  his  generosity.  I  want  him  to  be  ex- 
act in  his  figm-es. 

Now,  when  we  are  calculating  God's  goodness,  we  must  take  measm-e 
by  the  family,  according  to  Christ's  own  declaration.  On  one  occasion 
he  taught  the  disciples  on  this  very  matter.  He  said  to  them,  after  giving 
them  some  other  instruction,  "If  ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good 
gifts  unto  yom'  children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him  !"  What  is  the  exact 
logical  position  here?  When  you  argue  from  a  man  to  God,  you  are 
accustomed  to  saj,  "Ah!  that  is  not  a  fair  argument — God  is  a  different 
being."  "  No,"  says  Christ,  "take  whatever  is  good  in  man,  and  argue 
that  God  is  not  only  that,  but  infinitely  better  than  that.  In  fashion- 
ing yom*  conception  of  God,  make  it  as  resplendent  in  justice,  as  august 
in  truth,  as  noble  and  pure  in  love,  as  radiant  and  wondroiis  in  pity, 
and  as  enduring  as  you  please.  Never  be  afraid  that  you  will  overdi-aw 
the  divine  character.  God  is  never  better  in  your  thought  or  imaginar 
tion  than  he  is  in  himself  You  may  pile  on,  and  pile  on,  as  much  as  you 
please,  and  your  descri{)tions  of  God  will  not  transcend,  but  will  come 
short  of,  the  reality.  When  your  heart  is  warmest,  when  it  is  noblest, 
when  it  is  truest,  when  it  is  best,  when  it  flashes  out  its  ideal  concep- 
tions of  God,  that  ideal  is  far  more  likely  to  be  near  the  truth  than  one 
that  is  coldly,  critically,  philosophically  deduced  from  definite  premises. 
For  God's  nature  really  outruns  the  human  capacity  for  reasoning. 

4.  Our  whole  life  is  to  be  a  process  of  glorifying  the  name  of  Chiist, 
not  merely  by  chanting  praise  to  him,  but  by  the  augmentation  of  our 
conception  of  him.     For,  as  man  himself  is  gi'owing  clearer-headed, 


158         THE  NAME  ABOVE  E VER Y  NAME. 

purer-hearted,  truer,  greater,  nobler,  he  has  all  the  elements  that  fi-ame 
to  him  a  sweeter  and  more  blessed  God.  If  the  God  that  you  beheld 
in  imagination  when  you  were  converted,  before  whom  you  fell  down 
rejoicing,  and  to  whom  you  surrendered  yourself,  is  the  best  that  you 
have,  woe  be  to  you  1  You  have  not  grown  since  you  came  out  of  the 
nurseiy,  and  you  stand  in  the  orchard  of  truth  without  growth.  A  true 
man  has  a  better  and  better  God  every  year. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood,  as  though  I  taught  that  therfe  were 
different  Gods.  There  is  but  one  God,  unchangeable,  infinite  in  power 
and  wisdom  and  goodness.  But,  after  all,  our  conceptions  of  God  are 
perpetually  changing,  and  changing  according  to  our  own  moral 
growth.  As  we  grow  ourselves,  with  an  increasing  capacity  to  think 
new  thoughts,  and  feel  new  emotions,  our  conception  of  God  changes, 
as  it  ought  to  change,  from  year  to  year,  in  the  du'ection  of  nobleness 
and  attractiveness  and  beauty.  That  God  who  shone  to  you  like  a  star 
on  the  horizon  in  your  morning,  should  have  ascended  the  heights  of 
experience  at  yom*  mid-day,  and  should  shine  down  with  the  fullness  of 
the  sun  upon  your  heads. 

I  sometimes  think  it  is  with  our  experience  as  it  is  with  streams  in 
mountain  valleys.  A  thousand  little  silver  rills  start,  they  know  not 
where,  and  bring  up  at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  and  form  one 
flower-banked  stream.  This  stream  is  fed  by  a  thousand  rills.  Itgi'ows 
by  other  additions.  And  as  it  flows  on  it  grows  deeper  and  broader 
until  it  reaches  the  ocean.  And  that  which  is  born  of  di'ops  of  expe- 
rience in  the  mountain,  runs  down  and  on,  as  it  were,  growing  broader 
and  wider  by  the  accumulation  of  experience-streams,  and  empties  at 
last  into  the  infinite.  We  find  our  thought  of  God  growing  and  grow- 
ing until  it  is  developed  into  the  eternal.  And  so  our  God  ought  j^er- 
petually  to  augment,  and  fiU  our  heaven  more  and  more  to  the  end  of 
life. 

If  these  views  and  expositions  be  true,  we  see  the  meaning  of 
Chi-ist's  thankfulness,  when,  on  one  occasion,  he  says,  "  I  thank  thee, 
O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because  thou  hast  hid  these  things 
from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  bal  es."  It  is 
true — and  we  see  in  the  light  of  these  remarks  what  is  the  reason  of 
its  truth — that  there  are  many  philosophers  and  many  theologians  who 
have  a  conception  of  God  which  is  unsi)eakably  inferior  to  that  which 
is  formed  by  very  ignorant  and  poor  and  misei-able  people.  It  you 
walk  with  the  pastors  of  the  various  chm'ches  through  their  parishes, 
you  shall  find  in  almost  every  parish  some  poor,  and  it  may  be  illiter- 
ate, great-hearted  creatui-e,  lying  out  of  society,  and  back  of  it,  pei 
haps,  with  only  one  single  thread  that  connects  him  with  his  fellow 
men — namely,  the  church — the  religion  of  Christ;  and  yet  you  shal] 


TEE  NAME  ABOVE  E VEB Y  NAME.  159 

find  him  in  conversation  mounting  up  and  outrunning  many  who  are 
more  highly  favored.  I  have  talked  with  old  colored  men  who,  storm- 
di'iven,  had  gone  to  God,  because  they  had  nothing  else  to  go  to,  and 
who  had  a  richness  and  wonderfulness  of  experience  that  I  had  no  par- 
allel to  in  myself,  though  I  was  a  preacher,  and  my  business  w\as  to 
study.  A  God  that  you  have  studied  out  can  never  be  such  a  God  as 
you  have  felt  out.  A  conception  of  God  that  your  heart  has  formed 
will  always  exalt  the  name  of  Christ  higher  than  any  other  name.  And 
so  it  comes  to  pass,  often,  that  those  who  are  poor  and  humble  in  this 
world,  those  who  are  living  literally  by  faith,  tliose  to  whom  the  Lord's 
prayer  is  a  daily  verity,  are  better  than  we.  "  The  last  shall  be  first," 
oftentimes,  and  "the  first  shall  be  last."  Our  knowledge  of  God  does 
not  depend  upon  our  education,  nor  upon  our  philosophical  capacities, 
but  upon  our  inward  and  spiritual  lives. 

This  blessed  name,  which  is  so  high  in  heaven  and  so  great  upon 
earth  already,  and  which  is  destined  to  such  exaltation  and  eminence, 
is  our  name.  For  there  is  no  form  of  language  which  has  not  been 
employed  by  om-  Master  to  identify  himself  with  us.  We  are  linked 
with  his  history.  His  thoughts  belong  to  us.  His  example  was  set 
for  us.  All  his  deeds  were  for  us.  And,  more  than  that,  we  are  joined 
to  him  as  heu-s.  Whatever  Chiist  has,  he  has  parted,  as  it  were,  and 
divided  with  us.  We  are  "heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ," 
according  to  the  declaration  of  the  apostle.  All  that  there  is  of  beauty, 
and  richness,  and  sweetness,  and  gi-andeur,  and  authority,  in  Christ,  is 
not  simply  something  to  which  we  are  permitted  to  look,  but  it  is  ours. 
We  have  the  same  right  in  it  that  a  child  has  in  the  dignity  and  eleva- 
tion of  his  father.  If  the  father  comes  to  honor,  and  is  of  .universal 
repute,  the  child  feels  stronger  and  richer  and  happier.  The  father's 
name  is  the  child's  glory,  as  the  child's  prosperity  is  the  father's  joy. 
All  that  God  has,  is  mine.  All  that  he  is,  is  mine.  I  am  what  I  am 
by  the  grace  of  God.  I  do  not  stand  in  my  own  being.  The  sum  of 
my  richness  is  not  what  I  have,  but  what  I  am  to  inherit.  In  the  in- 
efiable  love  of  Christ,  in  the  glory  and  beauty  and  grandeur  of  his 
nature,  and  in  his  elevation  of  character,  I  have  a  part  and  a  lot.  He 
is  my  Father,  he  is  my  Brother,  he  is  my  Friend,  he  is  my  Companion, 
and  shall  be  forever  and  forever.  He  shall  lead  me  by  the  hand  here, 
and  he  shall  lead  me  by  the  hand  through  the  valley  and  shadow  of  death. 
And  I  shall  feai-  no  evil.  I  shall  meet  the  mysterious  foes  that  people 
dai-kness  and  space,  and  say,  "  The  Captain  of  my  salvation  ii,  victor- 
ious over  all  adversaries."  I  shall  not  fear  to  fiice  the  life  to  come.  I 
know  in  whom  I  have  trusted  ;  and  what  I  have  committed  to  his 
charge  he  will  keep — for  he  is  a  faithful  Saviom*.  I  know  that  my  sins 
rise  up,  and  he  knows  them  better  than  I  do.     I  know  my  inferiority 


1 G 0         THE  NAME  ABOVE  E VER Y  NAME. 

but  did  ever  bii'd  sit  on  the  nest  that  it  might  brood  the  egg  into  life, 
and  then  wait  patiently  for  the  callow  bird  to  fly  and  sing,  feeding  it 
the  while,  that  it  had  not  borrowed  something  to  teach  me  what  God 
is,  who  sits  with  infinite  patience,  brooding  men  till  they  are  brought 
up  out  of  imperfection  into  perfection,  •  and  are  able  to  fly  through  the 
realms  of  power  and  grace  and  glory  ?  I  am  imperfect  enough,  but 
not  I,  but  Christ  that  dwelleth  in  me,  gives  hope. 

And  that  same  Chi-ist  is  yours.  He  belongs  to  the  beggar  in  the 
street,  if  he  wUl  take  him.  He  belongs  to  the  proud  man,  the  vain 
man,  the  selfish  man.  He  belongs  to  the  needy  man.  He  is  medicine 
for  every  man's  sickness  and  want.  He  is  the  Saviour  that  stands  to 
help  every  living  creature.  The  earth  is  his.  "The  field  is  the  world." 
All  men  are  his  possession.  And  yet  how  poor  men  are  !  What  beg- 
gars they  are !     How  friendless  they  are  !     How  lean  they  are ! 

Dear  brethren,  this  is  not  all.  In  a  very  little  time  we  shall  depart, 
and  the  places  that  know  us  now  shall  know  us  no  more  forevei*.  But 
there  is  to  be  another  scene  beyond  this.  "  Wherefore  God  also  hath 
highly  exalted  him  (Jesus),  and  given  him  a  name  which  is  above 
every  name ;  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of  things 
in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth ;  and  that 
every  tongue  should  confess  that  Jesus  Chi'ist  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of 
God  the  Father."  The  day  will  come  when  we  shall  stand  disem- 
bodied— that  is,  free.  We  shall  stand  by  sight  and  by  sense  in  the 
gi-eat  spirit-realm.  We  shall  behold  trooping  from  afar  ranks,  orders, 
degrees  of  grandeur  and  excellence.  We  shall  see  worlds  bearing 
hither  and  thither,  in  all  this  vast  and  ever-congi-egating  multitude, 
their  coijtributions  -to  the  riches  of  the  realm  of  God's  whole  creation. 
And  we  shall  see,  rising  above  them  all,  in  sweet  simplicity,  and  in  the 
rapture  of  love,  Jesus,  the  crowned  Lover,  whose  heart  bled,  and 
bleeds,  for  us — the  wine  of  our  victory,  and  the  food  of  our  life. 
Above  every  name  on  earth  and  every  name  in  heaven  our  Lover 
stands,  and  we  are  safe. 

Take  hold  of  that  blessed  name.  Ye  that  have  not  known  it,  learn 
to  know  it.  Gather  up  all  fragmentary  excellences,  and  fashion  to 
yourself  some  conception  of  that  Saviour.  Begin  to  yearn  toward  him, 
to  love  him,  and  to  follow  him.  Hear  him  say,  "  If  you  love  me,  keep 
my  commandments.  If  you  cannot  keep  them  perfectly,  try  to  keep 
them,  and  I  will  take  the  endeavor  for  the  deed,  and  wUl  undertake  to 
keep  you."  Listen  to  his  call,  and  heed  it.  And  do  not  merely  let  his 
name  be  upon  you  outwardly,  but  let  his  Spuit  be  upon  you  inwardly. 
And  then,  when  "the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to 
Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads,"  you  shall  be  of 
then-  number,  and  shall  forever  and  forever  be  present  with  the  Loi-^ 


THE  NAME  ABOVE  E VER Y  NAME.  161 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON.* 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  that  thou  art  more  to  us  than  any  earthly  parent  can  bo 
to  hia  children.  We  thank  thee  that  there  is  a  household  into  which  thou  dost  gather 
thine  own,  where  we  are  but  as  little  children  ourselves;  where,  with  struggles,  and 
with  cries  of  fear  and  pain,  we  are  often  gathered  in;  but  where  thou  dost  comfort  ns 
even  as  a  father  comforteth  his  children.  We  thank  thee  that  thus  there  is  a  refuge  from 
the  world;  from  its  storms,  its  assaults,  its  temptations,  its  doom.  We  thank  thee  that 
thou  hast  reared  up  walls  of  partition  round  about  thine  own,  and  that  they  who  put 
their  trust  in  tuee  shall  bo  as  Mount  Zion,  which  cannot  be  moved. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  take  into  thy  fatherly  care  these  little  children, 
that  are  not  of  an  age  to  know  what  they  are,  or  what  they  do,  nor  to  discern  their  right 
hand  from  their  left.  And  what  better  are  they  who  tend  them  ?  How  feeble  is  our  best 
wisdom  !  We  cannot  look  forth  to  know  what  is  going  to  meet  us,  nor  could  we  prepare 
for  it  if  wo  knew  it.    We  are  ourselves  children  who  take  care  of  children. 

We  commend  these  dear  parents,  therefore,  unto  thee,  praying  that  thou  wilt  give 
them  the  illumination  of  tho  Holy  Ghost,  that  they  may  know  how  to  lead  these  chil- 
dren, they  themselves  being  taught  of  God.  May  the  lives  and  health  of  these  little  ones 
be  precious  in  thy  sight.  Though  tho  infirmities  of  the  world  are  around  them,  and 
though  they  shall  know  sorrow  and  crying,  grant  that  yet  their  names  may  be  written  in 
the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life,  and  that  they  may  have,  even  in  this  world,  the  pledge  and 
surety  of  that  inheritance  where  no  more  shall  any  one  cry— where  God  shall  wipe  the 
tears  from  all  eyes. 

Look,  we  beseech  of  thee,  not  alone  upon  these  children,  pleased  or  weeping,  but 
beyond,  into  every  household.  O  Lord !  how  many  are  there  whose  hearts  ache ! 
How  many  parents  are  there  whose  eyes  weep!  How  many  are  there  who  are  full  of 
sorrows,  and  who  must  come  to  thee,  if  they  take  thee,  as  they  need  thee,  as  a  man  of 
Borrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief!  Have  compassion  on  them,  and  teach  them  how  to 
ease  themselves  of  their  burdens  by  casting  them  upon  the  Lord.  If  they  have  but 
little  faith,  do  thou  comfort  them,  and  strengthen  their  faith.  If  there  are  any  that  sit 
to-day  doubtful,  and  in  twilight,  watching  by  the  side  of  their  sick  children,  will  the 
Lord  be  pleased  to  rebuke  the  disease,  and  restore  their  darlings  to  them;  but  prepare 
them  for  any  event  of  thy  providence  which  is  best. 

Wilt  thou  accept  the  tuanksgiving  of  any  that  are  in  thy  presence  this- morning  who 
have  come  from  sickness,  and  who  have  hearts  full  of  gratitude  for  thy  sparing  mercies. 
Accept  their  testimony  and  their  offerings  to-day.  Look  upon  any  that  are  near  and 
dear  to  us  who  are  feeble  and  sick,  and  whose  homes  are  darljcned  to  them.  Look  upon 
parents  who  fain  would  guide  their  children,  but  who  have  the  summons  already  in  them 
to  depart  and  leave  thoTi  to  others,  whose  hearts  are  sad  and  sore.  Grant,  O  Lord!  that 
there  may  be  such  consolations  ministered  unto  them  that  they  shall  be  able  to  say, 
"The  Lord's  will  be  done." 

We  pray  that  in  all  the  great  business  of  life,  in  rearing  our  children,  in  imbuing 
them  with  right  dispositions,  in  fixing  principles  which  shall  guide  them  when  we  are 
gone,  we  may  ever  have  the  inspiration  of  God  resting  upon  us.  May  we  know  what  is 
right.  May  we  be  able  to  instil  the  knowledge  of  it  into  others.  May  we  bring  up  our 
households  so  that  they  shall  staud  firmly  m  the  service  of  God.  May  all  the  young  in 
our  midst  bo  brave  for  things  right,  and  be  afraid  only  of  evil.  May  they  love  the  truth. 
May  they  learn  honor.  !Wav  they  bo  upright  before  God  and  before  men.  Whatsoever 
things  are  pure,  and  whatsoever  are  true,  and  whatsoever  are  lovely,  and  whatsoever  are 
of  good  report,  may  they  know  and  praitLce.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt 
grant  that  the  generation  which  is  coming  up  may  bo  broader,  and  wiser,  and  stronger, 
and  more  abundantly  fruitful  in  all  good,  than  wo  have  been. 

We  pray  that  thy  Churoh  everywhere  may  be  more  and  more  purified,  and  prepared 
for  tho  great  work  which  is  opening  for  it  upon  earth.    Let  that  kingdom  in  whici 

*  Immediately  following  the  baptism  of  children. 


162  THE  NAME  ABOVE  EVERY  NAME. 

dwelleth  righteousness  come.  Thou  hast  promised  that  all  the  earth  shall  ho  given  to 
Jesus,  our  Master.  Oh  I  let  that  day  speed  when  he  shall  come  and  take  his  kingdom 
here,  and  reign  on  earth  as  he  rules  in  heaven. 

Lord  Je.sus,  our  desires  are  unto  thee;  and  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  our 
faith  may  not  fail,  and  that  we  may  not  shrink  from  our  own  part  of  that  labor  and 
achievement,  and  that  we  may  be  cheerful,  and  carry  our  burden  and  cro=?,  sjid  that  wa 
may  live  so  that  when  we  depart  out  of  the  world,  the  world  shall  feel  its  loss,  and  know 
the  good  that  we  have  wrought,  and  heaven  greet  us.  And  bring  thou  us  at  last  into 
thine  own  presence,  and  crown  us  with  thy  words,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, enter  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son  and  Spirit,  ever  more.    Arnen^ 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON 

Our  Father,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  unto  us  a  knowledge  of  thyself  through 
our  own  selves.  Take  away  that  defilement  which  is  as  the  cloud  before  the  sun.  Tako 
away  those  passions  which  interpret  the  devils  to  us,  and  not  thee.  Give  to  us  life  more 
in  those  parts  which  are  of  God,  and  which  seek  God.  Grant  that  we  may  have  such 
sympathy  with  men,  such  forgiving  dispositions,  such  sweet  and  attractive  lives,  such 
longings  and  yearnings  for  purity,  and  truth,  and  honor,  and  glory,  that  we  shall  be 
lifted  up  into  kindred  sympathy  with  thee.  Make  thyself  known  to  us  thus.  Oh!  if 
thou  wilt  interpret  thyself  to  us,  purify  us.  Is  not  this  the  meaning  of  thy  chastisements. 
Art  not  thou  dealing  heavily  with  many?  and  is  it  not  that  they  may  become  sons  of 
God?  Hast  thou  not  said  that  whom  thou  lovest  thou  chastenest,  and  scuurgest  every 
Bon  whom  thou  receivest?  Art  thou  not  seeking  to  break  off  the  husk?  Art  thou  not 
endeavoring  to  open  the  shutter  that  the  light  of  the  sun  may  shine  clear  through  the 
window,  into  their  souls?  O  Lord!  interpret  thyself  in  every  way— by  joy  and  by  aor- 
row.  Fashion  thine  image  before  our  minds,  and  keep  it  there;  and  by  the  sweet  attrac- 
tions of  thy  love,  grant  that  we  may  walk  from  strength  to  strength,  and  from  glory  to 
glory,  until  we  appear  in  Zion  and  before  God. 

And  to  thy  name  tha^  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen, 


XL 

National  Unity. 


NATIONAL  UNITY. 


•  And  he  flhall  set  up  an  ensign  for  the  nations,  and  shall  assemble  the  ontcasts  of  Israel, 
and  gather  together  the  dispersed  of  Judih  from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth.  Tlie  envy  also 
of  Ephraim  shidl  depart,  and  the  adversaries  of  Judah  shall  be  cut  off.  Ephraim  sh^ll  not 
envy  Judtih,  and  Judah  shall  not  vex  Ephraim." — Isaiah  XI.  12,  13. 


The  feuds  and  separations  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  caused  their  ulti- 
mate destruction.  Ephi-aim,  lying  midway,  and  covering  the  ten-itoiy 
subsequently  known  as  Samaria,  and  Judah,  lying  on  the  southern  part, 
two  of  the  strongest  tribes,  had  rivahies  of  ambition ;  and  each  sought 
to  increase  its  own  strength  by  dividing  the  strength  of  its  antagonist. 
In  like  manner  Greece  was  internally  weakened  by  the  stinfe  of  its 
little  states.  It  was  one  of  the  signs  and  promises  of  the  latter-day 
glory,  that  a  time  should  come  when  contiguous  tribes  would  vex  and 
haiTass  each  other  no  more,  and  would  study  union  and  not  division. 

The  world  and  the  race  stand,  to  om*  modern  thought,  as  Israel  stood 
to  the  thought  of  the  devout  Jew.  This  passage  has,  therefore,  a  striking 
application  to  our  land.  The  gathering  together  here  of  the  outcasts 
of  nations  will  not  have  escaped  your  attention.  .Neither  will  the  dan- 
gers of  alienation  and  of  quaiTel ;  nor  again,  the  promises  of  unity. 
All  of  them  have,  or  may  be  made  to  have,  du'ect  application  to  our 
own  nation,  and  to  om*  own  times.  I  do  not  propose  to  consider  in 
symmetrical  fullness  the  dangers  of  disintegration,  nor  to  suggest  all, 
nor  even  all  of  the  important,  remedial  influences.  The  shortness  of 
the  time  justifies  me  in  sketching  in  a  few  studies  rather  than  in  elabo- 
rating the  whole  picture. 

Let  me  begin  by  mentioning  the  distm-bing  influences  which  are 
coming  upon  us  through  the  gi'eat  movement  hither  of  emigrants  from 
all  the  world. 

As  the  Nile,  in  its  great  annual  rise,  brings  down  something  of  the 
soil  of  eveiy  formation  thi'ough  a  thousand  miles,  and  deposits  it  aa 
slime  for  the  sun  to  tm-n  to  soil  and  fruitfulness ;  as  the  Mississippi, 
with  its  gi-eater  tributary,  the  Missomi,  caiTy  to  the  fat  regions  around 
its  Delta  a  tiibute  gathered  from  almost  every  point  of  latitude  and  lon- 

Thanksgiving  Day  Sermon— Thursday  Morning,  Nov.  18,  1869.— Lksson  :  Pba.  CVIL 
Hymn  (Plymouth  Collection)  No.  130, 


164  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

gitude  on  the  continent,  so  upon  these  United  States,  with  annual  de 
posit,  come  the  emigrating  freshets  of  the  world.  It  falls  upon  us  like 
mud.  It  shall  be  our  richest  soil.  When  it  is  aerated,  and  when  intel- 
ligence and  religion  and  liberty  shall  have  penetrated  it,  it  wiU  be  most 
precious.  Its  trouble  is  all  now,  and  at  the  first.  Its  bounty  and  re- 
ward shall  go  on  with  increasing  abundance  to  the  very  end.  Can  this 
nation  survive,  however,  the  chill  and  fever  of  malarial  influence  en- 
gendered by  this  new  soil,  until  by  cultm-e  the  vast  mass  of  new  de- 
posit shall,  by  the  sun,  the  air  and  the  plow,  be  sweetened,  and  become 
as  wholesome  for  men  as  it  is  fertile  for  gTain  ? 

Men  change  then*  country,  then-  national  di'ess,  theu*  laws  and  gov 
ernments  ;  but  then*  personal  habits,  then*  religious  beliefs,  then*  domes- 
tic traits,  their  manners  and  customs,  their  pleasures  and  amusem,entg, 
they  cannot  easily  change.  They  bring  hither  with  them  their  uncon- 
scious conflicts.  Things  that  at  home  are  most  innocent,  they  find  here 
to  be  pugnacious.     Nor  do  they  know  whence  the  conflict  springs. 

There  is  the  everlasting  conflict  of  religious  ideas,  and  the  organi 
zations  to  which  they  give  rise.  We  import  vast  material  of  spiritual 
warfare.  The  Catholic  sect  is  a  valiant  fighter  ;  and  it  grows  apace 
among  us,  as  it  has  a  right  to  do.  It  has  its  own  genius  which  it  should 
attempt  to  spread  abroad.  It  brings  hither  the  ark  of  the  middle  ages, 
and  thunders  at  the  world  which  will  not  walk  backward  into  it. 
Swarming  about  it  are  all  forms  of  infideUty — for  infidels  are  the  le- 
gitimate children  of  superstition.  And  by  superstition  I  mean  all  reli- 
gious impulse  from  which  the  element  of  fi'ee  individual  reason  is  left 
out.  Besides  these  come  the  minor  sects.  All  sects  swai-m  and  mul 
tiply  in  the  atmosphere  and  summer  of  hberty. 

The  mingling  together  of  these  strange  materials,  will  give  rise  to 
quite  enough  of  jarring  and  of  activity  ;  but  we  perceive  still  another 
element  of  discord  in  the  conflict  of  social  customs.  Our  Puritan  fa- 
thers made  channels,  and  Europe  is  furnishing  the  water  that  flows  in 
them.  We  see  that  the  land-marks  are  going.  We  see  that  under 
foreign  influences  our  channels  are  becommg  too  narrow,  and  too 
straight.  We  perceive  laws  overwhelmed,  sacred  ideas  rudely  over- 
borne, and  the  venerable  Lord's  day  given  up  to  festive  songs,  to 
dances  and  to  bibulous  hilarity.  Many  are  alarmed,  and  think  that  the 
end  of  the  world  hath  come.     Nay,  not  by  some  space  yet. 

We  should  reflect,  in  regard  to  this,  how  differently  the  native-born 
citizen  and  the  European  emigrant  have  been  related  to  this  question 
of  amusements.  In  America,  so  free  have  we  been,  so  large  an  outlet 
has  been  given  to  om-  religious  liberty,  so  large  has  been  the  expression 
of  every  political  want,  so  free  has  industry  been  and  so  remunerative, 
that  our  people  have  not  felt  the  need  of  amusements.  These  have  seemed 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  165 

like  moths  to  our  industry.  We  luive  found  rest  and  exhilarsXicn  in 
other  things.  And  to-day  we  urge  amusements  upon  our  people  cLiefly 
on  moral  and  fBSthetic,and  not  at  all  upon  political  grounds. 

But  in  Europe  political  liberty  is  mostly  unknown,  and  religious 
liberty  is  a  [)inchcd  dwarf.  A  crowded  population  have  but  slender 
hopes  of  wealth  from  industry.  Human  nature  would  explode  if  there 
were  not  some  vent  given  to  it.  Not  free  on  the  side  of  religion,  not 
free  on  the  side  of  politics,  and  not  free  on  the  side  of  industry,  some- 
where the  window  must  be  opened  to  let  the  au*  in.  This,  alike,  the 
hierarch  and  the  monarch  saw.  Governments  therefore  fostered  popular 
amusements.  In  these,  almost  only,  the  common  people  of  Europe 
found  themselves  at  liberty  to  do  what  they  pleased.  Amusements 
are  the  safety-valves  of  Europe. 

Now,  a  people  who  have  had  the  chief  happiness  of  their  lives 
clustering  about  amusements,  come  to  a  land  where  exceeding  free- 
dom has  left  almost  no  place  for  such  things.  We  have  liberty. 
in  association  with  politics,  with  religion,  and  with  business  ;  they 
with  amusements  only.  With  the  German  on  the  one  side,  and 
with  the  Yankee  on  the  other,  is  the  same  instrument  of  liberty,  and 
for  the  most  part  it  plays  the  same  tunes ;  but  that  instrument  in 
the  hand  of  the  Yankee  is  set  four  notes  higher  than  it  is  in  Europe. 
It  plays  business,  and  commerce,  and  government,  and  religion,  here. 
It  plays  amusements  there.  And  liberty  discords  with  liberty,  because 
the  insti'uments  are  not  set  to  the  same  key.  And  when  emigration 
brings  all  the  pipers  together,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  music  clashes. 
It  is  next  in  mellifluous  strains  to  the  bagpipe ; — and  that  is  the  instru- 
ment that  was  made  to  express  what  was  left  of  sound  after  other  in 
straments  had  used  up  all  smoothness  and  harmony ! 

For  the  rest,  emigration  brings  strength.  On  the  whole,  it  is  intel- 
ligent— not  exactly  in  our  way,  but,  nevertheless,  intelligent.  The 
Dane,  the  Swede,  the  German  certainly,  add  to  the  cerebral  power  of 
the  nation.  The  Irish  add  to  its  activity.  They  bring  large  actual 
wealth.  They  bring  indomitable  industry,  which  is  the  father  of 
wealth.  This  is  true  of  the  mass.  But  to  the  educated  men  and  wo- 
men who  come,  we  owe  a  greater  debt.  They  bring  to  us  a  culture, 
a  moans  of  culture,  in  ait,  in  science,  in  classic  instruction,  which  lays 
is  under  solid  obligations  to  them. 

*  There  are,  however,  other  dangers  of  disintegration  on  this  great 
nation,  besides  those  which  come  from  the  conflict  of  old  j>eoples  mov- 
ing among  new  ones.  It  is  the  general  tendency  of  human  nature  to 
degenerate  in  the  midst  of  gi-eat  and  long-continued  physical  prosperi- 
ty. Our  institutions  are  the  best  if  they  are  the  best  served ;  but  the 
poorest  if  poorly  served.      Republican  institutions  demand  energetio 


166  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

and  viituous  citizens.  Compared  with  oars,  what  vast  advantage  has  the 
steam  engine !  But  if  for  want  of  3team  you  attempt  to  work  the 
engine  by  men's  hands,  it  becomes  far  inferior  to  oars.  Steam  engines 
requu-e  steam.  Superior  institutions  require  superior  motive-power,  or 
they  are  worse  than  the  governments  of  primitive  force.  And  no  where 
else  is  government  subject  to  so  much  attrition,  and  so  easily  made 
feeble,  as  where  it  is  rej^ublican. 

The  immense  extent  of  our  country,  too.  gives  bold  opportunity  to 
the  development,  in  its  remote  sections,  of  antagonisms  which  shall  in 
times  of  heat  and  violence  break  up  the  nation  into  combative  frag- 
ments. The  recent  failure  of  such  an  attempt  ought  not  to  breed  un- 
due secmity.  Few  know  how  near  it  came  to  success.  It  was  an  at- 
tempt, however,  founded  upon  bad  grounds,  odious  to  the  moral  sense 
of  the  world.  It  had  bad  counsellors,  and  it  followed  a  course  of  events 
which  tended  to  arouse  and  unite  the  nation  in  behalf  of  union  to  a 
greater  extent  than   befoi'e  seemed  possible. 

But  should  the  Pacific  states,  in  another  generation,  for  strong  com- 
mercial reasons  developed  without  slavery  as  an  underlying  cause,  un- 
dertake a  separation,  the  issue  would  probably  be  very  different.  Our 
late  success,  then,  must  not  argue  its  like  on  every  subsequent  occasion  ; 
and  the  failure  of  the  late  attempt  must  not  lead  us  to  suppose  that  no 
more  attemjDts  will  be  made.  If  now,  with  slavery  gone,  these  very  South- 
ern States,  that  lie  exhausted  temporarily,  waiting  a  few  generations, 
should,  on  grounds  of  mere  political  economy  and  of  good  government, 
again  demand  separation,  the  issue  is  not  to  be  prophesied  from  the 
experience  of  the  recent  struggle.  It  is  not  wise,  it  is  presumptuous 
to  rest  down  in  the  belief  that  the  question  of  union  is  settled  forever. 
For,  in  the  gi'owths  of  the  future,  great  regions  of  this  nation  will  be 
so  large  and  so  vastly  populous,  that  while  they  may  be  prevented  from 
rupture  by  reason  of  transient  passion  or  sudden  anger,  they  can  nevei 
be  prevented  from  separation  if  then*  real  interest  lies  in  separation. 

We  cannot  too  deeply  ponder  this  truth,  that  national  imity  cannot 
be  secm'ed  except  by  making  it  the  interest  of  each  section  to  remain 
m  unity.  For,  so  vast  are  the  outlying  members  of  this  nation,  that 
there  is  no  power,  even  in  all  that  remains,  to  hinder  any  one  of  them, 
by-and-by,  if  it  becomes  its  interest  to  leave  the  national  organization. 

Rhode  Island  may  not  be  able  to  withdraw  alone,  nor  New  Jersey 
nor  Connecticut,  nor  South  Carolina  even,  nor  any  single  state,  but  the 
whole  South,  the  whole  Southwest,  or  the  vast  Pacific  slope,  move  on 
different  planes  from  single  states.    And  that  which  might  be  prevented 
in  a  nook  or  corner,  cannot  be  prevented  on  a  quarter  of  a  continent. 

It  was  from  peculiar  reasons  not  likely  to  occur  again,  that  mUitaiy 
power  was  successful  lately.     Hereafter  only  moral  power  remains  to 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  167 

us.  That,  or  nothing !  For  myself,  while  I  long  with  intense  patriot- 
ism for  the  continued  unity  of  this  njition,  I  by  no  means  regard  the 
future  friendly  separation  of  its  parts  with  such  repugnance  and 
detestation  as  I  did  the  late  attempt.  If  four  great  republics, 
homogeneous,  civilized,  and  not  in  antagonism,  but  friendly,  should  be 
created  out  of  the  one,  I  should  fear  no  such  evils  as  if  vast  fragments 
weie  to  break  off  and  organise  governments  of  reaction,  rear  up  a  mon 
archy — or  a  servile  aristocracy — and  infix  a  principle  of  mutual  antago 
nism  into  the  organic  structures  of  the  separated  parts.  Yet,  absolute 
political  union  of  the  whole  continent  is  better,  so  far  as  we  now  can  see. 
Separation  will  not  be  fatal.  At  the  same  time,  unity  is  so  much  better, 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  Chiistian  patriot  to  lay  wise  plans,  long 
forecasting,  to  maintain  the  present  happy  union,  and  to  maintain  it 
remembering  that  there  is  no  band  or  strap  of  ii'on  strong  enough,  that 
there  is  no  political  force  so  great,  no  sword  so  sharp,  and  no  artillery 
so  multitudinous,  as  to  have  j^ower  to  hold  together  long  the  unwilling 
parts  of  so  vast  a  republic  as  this ;  that  if  we  are  to  maintain  national 
unity,  it  is  to  be  by  common  consent  founded  upon  common  interest. 
The  arrogance  of  any  part,  whether  it  be  the  arrogance  of  intellect,  or 
the  arrogance  of  wealth,  or  the  arrogance  of  skill,  or  the  arrogance  of 
political  power,  would  tend  to  disaffect  and  diive  off  other  parts  of  this 
great  nation.  There  must  be  not  simply  conciliation,  but  organic 
working  toward  common  moral,  intellectual,  physical  and  political  in- 
terests.     In  that,  and  in  that  alone,  we  shall  have  stability  in  unity. 

When  it  is  once  understood  that  om-  only  hope  of  continvredl 
unity  is  to  be  found  in  the  exertion  of  influence  rather  than  of  force, 
it  will  give  a  new  impetus,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  to  ail  the  moral  energiietj 
of  Christian  men. 

Let  us  look  at  some  few  of  the  hopeful  and  potential  elements  by 
which  we  may  prevent  attrition,  disintegration,  and  final  separation. 

Fu'st,  we  will  consider  the  spread  of  intelligence.  Knowledge  is 
that  which  a  man  knows.  Intelligence  is  that  which  knows  it.  Know- 
ledge bears  the  same  relation  to  intelligence  which  invested  wealth  does 
to  that  spirit  of  enterprise  which  creates  wealth.  One  is  the  active 
cause.  The  other  is  the  product  or  effect  of  that  cause.  Mere  know- 
ledge will  not  save  men.     Intelligence  is  a  preservative  force. 

American  institutions  have  been  criticised  as  not  producing  knowl- 
edge of  the  highest  kind,  nor  full  symmetric  culture ;  but  all  things  in 
their  order.  The  problems  of  an  old  society  and  of  a  new  one  are  not 
the  same.  Intelligence  is  of  more  value  to  us  than  high  culture,  though 
high  cultm-e  may  be  more  valuable  to  an  old  monarchy  than  general 
intelligence,  and  of  more  value  to  us,  by  and  by,  than  just  now. 
It  is   giving  eyes   to   the  whole   people   to  give   them  intelligence^ 


168  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

It  gives  them  training  enough,  at  any  rate,  to  guide  them  safely 
in  their  paths.  It  gives  them  a  certain  instrument  by  Avhich  to 
resist  the  outburst  of  passion,  and  the  warpings  and  bias  of  undue  sel- 
fishness and  interest.  The  eye  of  the  engineer,  the  eye  of  the  trained 
scientist,  may  be  better  than  the  eye  of  mere  intelligence ;  but  for  the 
whole  people,  till  such  time  comes,  in  the  millenial  day,  that  all  may  be 
engineers  in  eye,  and  scientists  in  eye,  general  intelligence  in  all  is  betr 
ter  than  high  training  and  fine  culture  in  a  few. 

This  intelligence  is  to  be  produced  largely  by  the  freedom  of  religious 
discussion  in  the  land.  For,  of  all  things  that  are  dangerous,  nothing 
is  more  so  than  that  unity  which  means  stupidity — the  mere  not  resists 
ing  or  not  discussing — the  condition  of  inactivity,  or  torpid  swallowing 
and  deglutition.  That  which  men  most  feel  in  religious  discussion  is 
that  which  is  vital  to  it,  and  that  which  makes  it  an  element  of  salva- 
tion to  a  nation.  It  is  that  it  is  fii'e,  and  that  men  cannot  have  fire  put 
on  them  and  sit  still.  It  is  that  it  comes  from  life  in  earnest,  and  wakea 
life  in  earnest  again.  And  life  is  the  one  great  necessary  quality  in 
national  existence. 

It  is  right  here  that  patriotism  and  Catholicism  are  radically  and 
ii-reconcilably  in  antagonism.  There  might  be  some  agreement  in  respect 
to  symbols  and  worship — though  I  cannot  hope  for  much  approxima- 
tion. There  might  be  some  coming  together  on  doctrines ;  but  there 
can  be  no  such  thing  as  agreement  on  the  question  of  the  submission  of 
men's  religious  understanding  to  an  order  of  men  appointed  to  think  for 
them.  Our  people  will  never  think  by  proxy — and  that  is  the  vital 
point  of  the  Catholic  Church.  Authority  it  is  called;  but  authority  on 
the  one  side  is  non-independence  on  the  other. 

If  Pere  Hyacinthe  had  denied  transubstantiation,  a  way  of  forgive- 
ness might  have  been  found.  If  he  had  denied  the  infixllibility  of  the 
Pope,  he  still  might  have  been  pardoned.  If  he  had  even  denied 
orders  in  the  priesthood,  there  might  have  been  some  escape.  But  for 
him  to  deny  that  superiors  had  a  right  to  think  for  their  inferiors ; 
for  him  to  stand  in  front  of  Em-ope,  and  dare  to  say,  "I  think  my  own 
thoughts,  though  my  order  and  my  superior  think  another  way  "— 
that  is  a  treason  that  never  can  be  cleansed,  either  by  baptism  or  by  blood. 

The  highly  organized  animals — the  bii'ds  and  beasts  of  the  upper 
rank— select  their  own  food,  and  reject  what  they  dislike.  They  range 
the  air  or  the  earth,  find,  take,  or  leave,  as  it  pleases  then-  tongue.  It 
is  the  round  clam  that  lies  still,  and  lets  the  water  bring  him  what  it 
will.  It  is  the  round  clam — that  pattern  of  devotion ! — which  opens, 
eats,  shuts,  and  is  a  clam  still.  And  the  clam  ranks  not  a  degree  higher 
on  the  scale  because  the  whole  ocean  is  so  big,  that  brings  m  his  food 
to  him.     He  is  but  a  clam. 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  169 

So,  though  the  church  of  two  thousand  years  may  roll  in  its  waves 
upon  the  individual,  if  the  individual  only  opens,  takes,  shuts,  eats,  di- 
gests, and  opens,  takes,  shuts,  eats,  digests,  it  is  but  a  clam  spiritual. 
And  Protestants  are  not  clams.  They  are  winged  and  legged.  Thej 
wander  wide,  and  fly  far,  and  select  diversely. 

Many  men  may  be  fascinated  by  the  poetry  in  the  hierarchy  ,  , 
many  may  be  juggled  by  its  casuistry ;  many  may  be  philosophically 
scared  by  its  doctrine ;  but  when  it  comes  to  that  which  is  the  spinal 
marrow  of  the  question — the  submission  of  individual  liberty  of 
thought  to  the  authority  of  an  organized  class  of  thinkers — that  will 
never  go  down  in  America — or  rather  it  will  go  down ! 

But  the  conflicts  which  go  on  between  sect  and  sect — between  the 
gi-eatest  of  all  sects  and  the  numerous  minor  sects — whatever  they  may 
have  of  mischief  in  their  bitterness,  have  much  also  of  education.  And 
it  is  far  better  that  religion,  with  all  the  mischiefs  of  division,  be  subdi- 
vided thus,  if  it  keeps  men  alive  and  awake  and  at  work,  than  that  there 
should  be  one  supreme  unity  without  vitality. 

I  might  mention,  also,  the  distribution  of  intelligence,  the  progres- 
sion of  thought  through  books  and  newspapers ;  but  time  will  not  per- 
mit me  to  dwell  upon  that  head,  as  I  have  other  things  in  store. 

I  mention  next,  the  ministration  of  the  free  common  school,  as 
vital  to  our  hope  as  a  great  united  republic  covering  a  whole  con- 
tinent. 

The  free  common  school  gives  to  every  child  the  one  indispensable 
element,  intelligence.  Not  only  does  it  teach  him  by  the  master,  but 
the  scholars  are  all  masters  to  each  other.  There  is  an  atmosphere  of 
intelligence  in  the  school,  and  a  public  sentiment  of  intelligence  among 
the  young  and  rising  generation  around  the  school  house.  Intelligence 
becomes,  where  common  schools  abound,  one  of  the  signs  and  tests  of 
manhood.  The  question  is  no  longer,  "  Who  can  throw  the  heaviest 
weight  furthest?"  or  "Who  can  run  and  leap  the  most  like  a  deer,  or 
hug  most  like  a  bear  f  Another  test  of  manhood  is  introduced ; 
and  it  is  no  more  muscle  that  makes  the  man,  but  nerve,  and  brain — 
the  father  of  nerve.  Intelligence  becomes  popular  in  the  district  and  in 
the  village,  and  manliness  goes  up  a  grade,  where  common  schools 
abound. 

Thus  it  equalizes,  too.  For  human  life  is  incessantly  creating 
diversity.  And  if  such  diversity  were  to  be  carried  on,  some 
men,  or  classes  of  men,  would  grow  mountain-high,  and  the  less 
favored  would  lie  valley-low.  And  so,  a  kind  of  aristocracy  would  fol- 
low classiflcation.  Classification  adheres  in  nature,  but  it  ought  not  to 
reign  except  throughout  the  generation  where  it  asserts  itself  Aris- 
tocracy is  individual.     It  does  not  belong  to  classes  in  perpetuity.     As 


170  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

an  attribute  of  individual  excellence  and  power,  it  is  divine,  and  carries 
with  it  aspiration,  and  ambition,  and  lordly  success.  But  if  human  life 
permits  itself,  by  institutions,  to  hold  these  elevations  for  the  prosperity 
of  other  individuals  than  those  that  have  earned  them,  you  have  in- 
stantly classified  human  society  into  an  artificial  aristocracy  and  a 
low-lying  common  people. 

Now,  Brain  is  master  and  owner  in  this  world.  Men  may  make 
resolutions,  and  form  combinations,  and  devise  plans ;  but  as  long  as 
God  keeps  his  original  decrees  unchanged,  so  long  brain  will  be  found 
to  own  and  to  govern.  And  they  that  have  it  will  be  masters.  They 
that  have  it  not  will  be  servants — with  protest  and  rebellion,  but  under 
the  decree  of  God.  And  the  true  equity  which  comes  with  an  ideal 
democracy,  must  be  that  equity  which  gives  to  every  man  an  equal  share 
of  hxahi-ciilture.  He  that  has  it  not  is  made,  by  that  very  deprivation, 
lower  than  his  fellow  who  has  it.  Democracy  does  not  mean  a  uni- 
versal level.  It  does  not  mean  compulsory  equality.  It  means  equit- 
able opportunity.  No  government  has  a  right  to  thrust  a  strong  man 
down  to  the  level  of  weakness.  No  institution  has  a  right  to  force  a 
weak  man  up  to  the  level  of  the  strong.  Organized  society  will  always 
be  graded.  True  equity  classifies  men  into  superior  and  inferior.  All 
that  can  be  rightfully  demanded,  is,  that  men  shall  have  education,  for 
then-  full  development ;  opportunity,  for  the  use  of  then-  powers ;  pro- 
tection, from  the  grasp  and  greed  of  unjust  passions  in  their  fellow 
men.  After  that,  men  must  find  their  own  level.  The  liberty  of  be- 
coming all  that  God  gave  to  a  man  the  power  of  being,  is  all  a  true 
philosophy  can  demand. 

The  common  school,  by  beginning  early  in  the  child's  life,  by  giving 
a  new  ideal  of  life,  by  afibrding  the  primal  stimulus,  not  only,  but  by 
opening  the  eyes  so  that  a  man  can  avail  himself  of  all  the  other  stim- 
uli which  by-and-by  he  will  meet,  is  keeping  up  a  true  democratic 
equality,  by  giving  all  men  then-  own  proper  chance  of  brain  power. 

It  is  democratic  in  another  sense,  because  it  is  bringing  back  to  a 
common  level  again  the  irregularities  produced  by  active  life.  Knowledge, 
riches,  skill,  1  have  said,  create  classes,  and  so  inequalities.  If,  in  the  spring, 
you  look  along  a  level  cultivated  field  where  com  gi-ew  the  previous 
year,  you  will  see  ridges  that  remain.  Now  comes  the  plow  to  turn 
over  the  soil,  and  all  the  old  hillocks  go  down,  and  lie  level  again  for 
the  next  crop.  The  common  school  is  the  plow  that  levels  each  gen- 
eration of  human  life.  All  the  children,  without  regard  to  superiorities 
or  excellencies  of  parentage,  have  to  come  together  and  stand  on  a 
common  dead  level  in  the  school-house.  The  schoolmaster  does  not 
call  the  roll  of  the  boys  by  their  parents'  altitudes,  but  by  the  alphabet ; 
and  if  A  is  a  poor  man's  son,  and  B  is  a  rich  man's  son,  B  comes  after 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  171 

A,  notwithstanding.  And  the  rich  man's  dunce  stands  below  the  poor 
man's  smart  boy — and  must.  In  this  little  germinant  republic  of  the 
common  school,  the  boys  whose  pai'ents  live  in  vastly  different  man- 
sions, and  with  vastly  different  customs,  are  brought  down  to  the  fel- 
lowship and  brotherhood  and  communion  of  a  common  humanity ; 
they  are  obliged  to  mix  together,  and  they  frame  laws  with  each 
other.  There  is  a  public  sentiment  of  the  school  which  is  just 
as  real  and  as  vital,  and  as  despotic  even,  as  the  public  senti- 
ment of  the  gi-eater  community  ;  and  it  is  a  good  thing  to  bring 
down  to  the  original  starting-point  all  the  elevations  and  inequalities 
which  the  various  forces  of  active  life  produce,  and  to  say  to  all  the  boys, 
"Your  feet  must  stand  on  one  level :  now  shoot  yom*  heads  as  high  as 
you  please!"  Liberty  of  growth  and  equality  at  the  start,  is  the  law  of 
true  democratic  life ;  and  this  is  what  the  common  school  gives. 

Under  no  excuse,  then,  let  it  be  suffered  to  go  to  waste.  It  is  not 
simply  the  knowledge  that  it  gives,  but  the  capacity  to  get  knowledge 
which  it  breeds ;  it  is  not  merely  the  intelligence  which  it  puts  in  the 
way  of  the  youth,  but  the  fellowship  and  common  feeling  which  gi-ows 
up  among  the  boys  of  different  families,  that  makes  the  common  school 
valuable.  And  it  is  to  the  last  degree  desirable,  not  only  that  it  should 
be  common,  but  that  it  should  he  free;  and  not  only  that  it  should  be 
free,  but  that  it  should  be  superior.  No  community  can  afford  to  let  a 
primary  private  school  be  better  than  then*  free  common  school.  No 
academy  should  be  permitted  to  be  better  than  the  distnct  common 
schools.  You  cannot  anywhere  else  so  ill  afford  to  be  parsimonious, 
and  call  it  economy,  as  in  the  administration  of  your  common  schools. 
Secure  more  buildings,  larger  buildings,  better  furniture,  more  teachers, 
with  ampler  support  (for  the  support  of  common  school  teachers,  espe- 
cially of  women  teachers,  is  a  shame  and  disgrace  to  our  civil- 
ization), with  more  capacity,  bringing  hither  the  noblest  men 
and  the  noblest  women.  This  is  political  wisdom.  And  no- 
where is  wisdom  so  squandered,  and  folly  so  regnant,  as  where  men 
are  unwilling  to  be  taxed,  and  are  parsimonious  in  those  reve 
nues  which  go  to  maintain  free  common  schools  for  all  the  childi-en 
of  the  whole  community.  The  rich  and  the  proud,  the  aristocratic  and 
the  arrogant,  may  be  unwilling  to  send  then-  children  with  the  "com- 
mon herd ;"  but  their  childi-en  need  it.  It  is  one  of  the  best  things  of 
their  whole  education ;  and  they  shoiild  be  compelled  to  do  it,  not  by 
law,  but  by  the  fact  that  they  cannot  find  a  private  school  that  is  as 
good  as  the  public  school. 

These  schools  should  not  only  be  free  and  common,  but  they  should  be 
unsectariait.  If  it  be  needful  that  the  teaching  of  technical  religion  should 
be  excluded  from  our  common  schools  for  the  sake  of  maintaininjr  their 


172  NATIONAL  UNITY 

I 

•anirersality,  I  vote  to  exclude  it.  If  it  be  needful  that  the  Bible  should 
not  be  read  in  the  common  schools  in  order  to  maintain  then-  univer- 
sality, then-  freedom,  and  then*  commonness,  I  should  vote  not  to  read 
it.  Because  I  disesteem  it?  I,  the  son  of  a  Puritan,  and  a  Puritan 
myself;  I,  that  would  have  bmiied  at  Oxford,  and  fought  with  Crom- 
well— Zdisesteem  the  Bible  ?  Most  venerable  is  it  of  all  the  memorials 
that  have  come  down  through  all  time  to  our  day.  More  joy  is  in  it  for 
the  common  people,  more  comfort  has  it  for  the  afflicted,  than  any  other 
book.  It  is  the  very  home  of  a  true  democracy.  It  is  the  very  temple 
of  liberty  in  this  world.  I  regard  the  Bible  as  being  that  which  stands  be 
tween  aggressive  power  and  organized  selfishness,  and  the  welfare  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  common  people.  It  is  the  common  people's  book ; 
and  there  is  no  class  of  people  that  need  to  read  it  so  much  as  the  chil- 
dren of  the  poor  and  the  needy.  Therefore  I  would  be  glad  if  every 
emigrant's  child,  and  every  home-born  child,  of  everj  faith,  not  only 
had  the  Bible,  but  had  the  oppoitunity  to  read  it  every  single  day. 
And  yet,  I  would  not  force  it  uj^on  any.  And  if  the  reading  of  the 
Bible  obliges  us  to  forego  our  principles  of  toleration,  I  shall  maintain 
our  principles  of  toleration.  It  was  because  they  would  not  suffer 
others  to  impose  then"  faith  uj^on  them,  that  our  fathers  came  hither  ; 
and  shall  we,  now  that  the  power  is  with  us,  take  the  ground  that  we 
may  impose  our  faith  upon  those  who  do  not  believe  as  we  do,  be 
cause  they  are  in  the  minority  ?  Shall  we,  after  a  hundred  years,  with 
all  the  gi'owing  light  and  knowledge  which  has  come  down  to  us  on 
this  subject,  commit  the  fatal  blunder  that  sent  the  Pilgrims  across  the 
sea  in  winter,  to  lay  the  foundations  of  this  noble  republic  ?  We  be 
lieve  in  the  freedom  of  religion,  and  do  not  believe  in  forcing  one  man's 
faith  upon  another  man.  And  this  being  so,  how  can  you  organize  the 
common  school,  which  is  supported  by  the  public  funds,  in  such  a  way 
as  to  force  the  Bible  on  the  Jews,  who  do  not  believe  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, or  upon  skeptical  men  who  do  not  believe  in  either  the  Old 
Testament  or  the  New "?  It  is  manifestly  inconsistent  with  the  great 
piinciples  of  Christian  toleration  in  which  we  believe,  and  which  we 
love.  To  say  that  a  Christian  nation  has  a  right  to  have  Christianity 
taught  in  its  schools,  even  if  it  be  distasteful  to  a  minority,  is  to  put 
forth  a  formula  for  arrogant  sects  as  soon  as  they  are  in  the  majority. 
Put  the  term  Catholic  in  the  place  of  the  word  Christian  in  the  forego- 
ing sentence,  and  how  would  the  logic  suit  a  Protestant  ? 

"What!"  says  the  Catholic,  with  real  fear  and  conscientious  earnest- 
ness, "do  you  propose  to  bring  up  the  childi-en  of  the  community  a 
nest  of  infidels  ?"  No,  I  propose  no  such  thing.  You  might  as  well 
say,  "Do  you  propose  to  bring  up  these  boys  in  school  a  lazy  setf  be- 
cause husbandly  is  not  taught  in  the  common  schools.     We  do  not 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  173 

teach  tlie  meclianic  arts  in  the  common  school.  There  are  a  hundred 
things  that  society  needs  which  are  not  taught  in  the  common  school. 

In  proportion  to  civilization,  work  is  divided  and  subdivided.  There 
is  one  kmd  of  instrument  for  one  function,  and  another  kind  of  instru- 
ment for  another  function.  Early  in  the  primitive  times,  when  a  dozen 
functions  clustered  around  one  instrument,  the  teacher  used  to  teach 
religion,  the  Bible  and  the  catechism,  as  well  as  the  spelling  book  and 
the  arithmetic ;  but  in  our  day  of  general  intelligence  we  divide  the 
functions  of  society,  letting  the  church  teach  dogma,  letting  the  family 
teach  personal  religion,  and  letting  the  common  school  perform  the 
task  of  teaching  intelligence.  And  because  we  take  out  of  the  common 
school  the  special  function  of  teaching  religious  dogma  and  religious  his- 
tory, do  we  therefore  take  away  religion  from  education  ?  Is  there  no 
other  religion  but  that?  We  teach  the  child  to  read  ;  we  teach  him  to 
seek  knowledge  as  a  means  of  manhood  ;  we  give  him  the  impulse  to 
learn ;  and  we  say,  "  If  we  may  not  give  religious  instruction  in  the 
school,  there  is  all  the  more  reason  why  we  should  bring  upon  the 
Christian  household  the  resposibility  of  greater  fidelity."  Build  up 
Sunday  schools  in  greater  numbers.  See  to  it  that  the  church  becomes 
a  true  teacher  of  the  whole  community.  Let  religion  be  taught,  with- 
out which  a  man  is  not  a  man  in  his  whole  natm'e,  and  is  not  fully 
equipped  for  this  life  or  the  life  which  is  to  come ;  but  let  us  not  for- 
swear om'  own  piinciples  of  toleration  and  oppress  the  conscience  of 
the  Jew,  the  skeptical  minded  man,  the  Chinaman,  the  Budhist,  or  any 
person  of  any  belief,  or  nation,  or  class.  Let  us  not  impose  our  reli- 
gious books  as  a  yoke  upon  others  because  we  happen  to  have  the  ma- 
jority and  the  power.  That  would  be  giving  the  charter  of  universal 
tyranny  to  power. 

But  are  there  no  other  ways  of  giving  religious  instruction  %  Do 
you  suppose  religion  is  all  given  to  men  when  you  have  taught  them 
the  catechism  ?  If  a  man  can  say  the  catechism — the  Lesser  catechism, 
or  the  Greater  catechism,  the  Westminster  catechism,  the  Episcopal 
catechism,  or  the  Lutheran  catechism — without  stumbling,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  is  he  a  saint  ?  Is  religion  all  taught  through  such  instru- 
mentalities %  By  no  means.  If  the  teacher  that  stands  in  the  school 
is  an  example  of  justice ;  if  justice  as  represented  by  the  teacher  is 
sweetened  by  lenity  ;  if  the  teacher  is  full  of  sympathy,  and  goes  down 
to  the  dull  and  the  stupid,  and  with  infinite  tenderness  lifts  them  up, 
and  supplies  then-  want,  is  not  that  teacher  better  than  any  catechetical 
instruction  ?  You  cannot  help  having  religion  taught  in  the  school  if 
you  have  a  man  or  a  woman  there.  But  it  need  not  be  dogma.  It 
need  not  be  instruction  in  the  philosophy  of  religion.  It  is  not  theo- 
logical doctrine  alone  which  will  teach  religion.     It  is  not  anything 


174  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

that  belongs  to  the  sects,  as  sects.  It  is  that  which  is  given  to  all. 
For  I  say  that  "whatsoever  things  are  true,"  and  "honest,"  and  "just," 
and  "  pui-e,"  and  "  lovely,"  and  "  of  good  report,"  are  esteemed  by  men 
outside  of  the  sects  as  really  as  by  men  mside  of  them.  The  things 
which  you  and  1  believe  to  be  essential  elements  of  religion — the  all- 
mspiring  love-power,  with  its  train  of  justice,  and  purity,  and  true 
sympathy — with  those  grac(!S  which  it  creates  in  the  individual,  those 
virtues  of  universal  good  report  which  dwell  In  eveiy  Christian  bosom — 
these  things  all  men  believe  in.  Men  believe  in  practical  religion, 
though  they  may  not  believe  in  religious  doctrines  or  institutions. 

I  therefore  say.  Let  your  common  schools  take  care  of  that  for 
which  they  were  instituted — namely,  universal  instruction  for  the  chU- 
di'en  of  the  community  in  the  first  elements  of  intelligence.  Make  the 
childi-en  readers.  Give  them  such  knowledge  and  training  that  they 
may  become  thereafter  theh  own  instructors.  This  is  the  function  of 
the  common  school.  And  you  cannot  tax  too  heavily  nor  too  often  to 
secure  the  fulfillment  of  that  function.  The  wisest  expenditure  a  State 
can  make  is  for  the  support  of  common  schools.  For  every  time  you 
educate  a  child,  you  stop  up  a  hole  at  the  bottom  of  the  ship  of  the 
commonwealth. 

You  will  of  course  expect  me  to  speak  of  religion,  as  one  of  the 
indispensable  elements  in  producing  unity  and  in  maintaining  the  in- 
tegrity of  our  national  life. 

The  spirit  of  religion  is  reconciling  and  peace-bearing;  but  religion 
developed  into  a  philosophy,  or  religion  in  the  form  of  an  institution, 
is  pugnacious,  and  divisory ;  and  always  has  been.  The  spirit  of  dog- 
ma is  not  useless.  Nevertheless,  it  is  pugnacious  and  divisive.  The 
propagation  of  the  church  has  always  been  a  conflict.  This  is  not  to 
be  reckoned  a  fault ;  but  it  shows  that  religion  in  this  world  passes 
thi'ough  stages  of  development  dependent  upon  the  condition  of  the 
hearts  upon  which  it  is  acting.  While  it  works  upon  the  lower  por- 
tions of  the  disposition  in  the  individual,  and  yet  more  strikingly  in 
communities,  we  find  it  to  be  a  disturbing  force.  But  when  by  dis- 
turbance and  strife,  when  by  fermentation,  human  nature  is  at  last 
brought  to  a  higher  condition,  and  communities  are  brought  under  the 
constant  control  of  the  higher  reason,  and  of  the  moi-al  feeling,  then  there 
is  a  true  ripening  and  sweetening  influence  in  religion.  In  other 
words,  that  which  religion  does  at  first,  divides  and  shatters ;  but  after 
a  tijne,  when,  going  through  the  necessary  developments,  religion 
comes  to  its  last  work,  that  will  be  "peace  on  earth,  and  good  will  to 
men." 

It  is  tnie  that  the  religion  of  to-day  is  doing  an  incalculable  work 
of  softening,  smoothing  and  reconciling ;  but  it  is  in  the  smaller  organ 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  175 

izations  of  society,  and  not  in  governments  and  in  whole  comomnities, 
that  its  chief  work  is  doing  Religion  is  enriching  the  household.  It 
is  making  the  relationships  of  the  family  far-  more  pm-e  and  fiir  nobler 
than  ever  they  were  before  upon  so  broad  a  surface  of  population.  It 
is  refining  social  life,  not  simply  by  the  progress  of  elegance,  but  by  a 
larger  good  will  and  a  truer  felloAvship  than  ever  before  existed.  It  is 
developing  in  individuals,  purity,  self-denial,  benevolence,  and  true 
moral  heroism.  It  is  at  work  in  society,  restraining  the  outrage  of 
passions,  insj^u-ing  indolence  with  activity  and  enterprise,  building  up 
schools,  cleansing  the  ways  of  business,  and  producing  an  intelligent 
morality. 

This  work  is  constantly  going  on.  It  is  engaged  still  in  its  primaiy 
tasks.  It  is  a  fiii-e,  a  sword,  a  war-trumpet.  The  music  belongs  to  the 
future.  As  apples  grow  in  their  som-ness,  all  summer  long,  and  find 
thek  sweetness  as  they  ripen  in  autumn,  so  the  fruit  of  religion  in  its 
instituted  life  yet  puckers  the  mouth  with  its  acrid  bitterness  of  imma- 
turity.    By-and-by  it  will  ripen  to  sweetness. 

Instead  of  unity,  it  now  creates  division.  A  hundi-ed  sects  there 
ai'e,  and  each  one  thinks  itself  to  be  the  sphitual  navel  of  the  universe. 
All  of  them  alike  ciy,  "Come  tome."  Every  sect  in  Christendom, 
from  the  oldest — the  Greek  and  the  Roman — down  to  the  last  and 
latest,  which  is  proudly  Chiistian  on  the  ground  of  disowning  Christ, 
is  in  its  organic  spirit  selfish  and  intolerant.  The  spirit  of  the  sects, 
whether  in  the  Catholic,  the  Greek  or  the  Protestant  Chm-ches,  is 
exclusive,  dictatorial,  divisive.  The  membership  are  often  fai-  more 
Christian  than  the  organization  to  which  it  belongs.  At  present,  and 
especially  in  the  relations  of  the  sects  to  each  other,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  combative  conscience  is  the  neiwe  of  the  church.  Institu 
tional  religion  has  bred  divisions,  and  it  is  its  nature  to  do  so. 
Sects  are  but  the  sphnters  and  fragments  which  fly  oflf  by  explosive 
violence  of  the  moral  sense  of  warrior  Christians. 

This  is  just  as  true  of  the  Roman  Church  as  of  the  Protestant, 
though  the  boastful  and  an-ogant  affirmation  is  widely  pi-evalent  to  the 
contrary.  The  boasted  unity  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  only  the  unity 
of  a  tenement  house  filled  with  quarreling  families.  The  Protestant 
sects  quan-el  out  of  doors.  The  Catholic  sects  quarrel  inside  of  the 
house.  Twenty  families  pecking  at  each  other  in  a  tenement  house — 
that  is  the  Roman  Church.  Twenty  families  pecking  at  each  other  in 
separate  houses  of  then-  own — that  is  the  Protestant  Church.  There 
is  no  difference  between  them  so  far  as  division  is  concerned.  Pro- 
testants biing  forth  sects  and  carry  then-  young  with  them  externally. 
The  Catholic  Church  is  marsupial.  Like  the  opossum  and  the  kan- 
gai-oo,  it  brings  forth  its  young;  but  it  has  a  pouch  into  which  they 


176  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

run,  and  where  they  nestle  and  quarrel.  There  is  as  much  quarreling 
in  the  j^ouch,  as  there  is  outside  on  the  back. 

I  do  not  speak  this  to  the  prejudice  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
Though  it  will  not  be  owned  by  them,  I  speak  it  to  their  credit.  It  is 
an  honorable  sign;  because  it  is  a  sign  of  vitality.  The  age  of  unity  has 
not  come.  We  are  living  in  the  age  of  attrition,  of  division,  of  vitality 
by  excitement.  Many  generations  beyond  us  there  will  be  a  better  time ; 
but  to-day  vitality  comes  with  agitation  and  division.  So  vastly  pre- 
dominant yet,  in  the  individual  and  in  the  community,  is  the  coarse 
and  belluine  element,  that  for  a  long  time  religion  must  be  in  conflict. 
A  religion  without  conflict  is  dead. 

Our  past  history  is  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  religious  institu- 
tions do  not  tend  to  national  unity,  or  to  any  considerable  power.  The 
civil  war  Avas  not  checked  by  the  spirit  of  the  churches.  The  Presby- 
terian Church  divided  into  the  North  and  the  South;  the  Methodist 
Church  divided  into  the  North  and  the  South ;  and  then  the  Ei^iscopal 
Church  divided  into  the  North  and  the  South.  Indeed  all  national 
churches  were  split,  and  the  halves  stood  in  mutual  oppugnation.  The 
Baptist  and  Congregational  Chm-ches  having  no  national  form,  by  their 
very  nature  could  not  divide  ecclesiastically;  but  the  churches  of  the 
North  and  those  of  the  South  were  morally  separated  as  much  aa 
were  the  two  halves  of  the  national  chm'ches. 

Neither  do  we  perceive  that  the  work  of  cohesion,  unity  and  homo- 
geneity, as  it  was  not  favored  by  religion  in  its  sectarian  forms,  will  be 
much  helped  by  religious  bodies,  now  that  they  ai'e  reunited;  for,  as 
hitherto,  in  this  distressed  world,  it  will  so  require  men's  religion  to 
maintain  the  organic  life  and  separateness  of  each  sect,  that  they  will 
have  little  to  spend  beyond  that.  The  Catholic  sect  is  busy  with  con- 
verting Protestants,  and  Protestants  are  busy  with  protesting  against 
being  converted.  Calvin  pursues  Ai-minius,  and  Arminius  pursues 
Calvin.  John  the  Baptist  is  still  at  the  Jordan  immersing.  The  en- 
ginery of  a  hundred  sects  is  brilliant,  and  all  proclaim  the  lapse  of 
others,  and  their  own  divinity.  Meantime,  religion,  descending  as  a 
dove,  rests  silently  upon  a  myriad  souls,  comforts  sorrow,  j^urifies  love, 
overcomes  fear,  and  visits  men  in  prisons,  at  sick  beds,  in  houses  of 
poverty,  amid  trials  and  sufierings,  saying,  "Peace,  my  jjeace,  I  give 
unto  you." 

In  the  unity  of  the  nation,  and  in  the  reduction  of  its  materials,  we 
hope  much  from  Religion  ;  very  little  from  sectarian  churches :  much 
from  the  Sphit  of  God  blessing  the  truth  of  his  Word  to  the  hearts  of 
individual  men ;  much  from  individual  men  that  are  nobler  than  theii* 
sect ;  much  from  free  men  whose  adhesion  to  forms  and  ceremonies  is 
the  least  part  of  their  existence ;  much  from  religion  as  it  exists  in  ita 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  177 

higher  forms  in  individual  natures  and  in  public  sentiment ;  very  little 
from  dogmas ;  very  little  from  theology,  as  such. 

And  yet,  if  it  could  be  understood  by  them,  here  is  a  new  call  to 
the  sects,  not  to  disband,  but  to  hold  each  other  in  true  fellowship  j  to 
act  in  harmony,  if  not  in  xinity.  The  prevalence  of  gross  immorality ; 
the  continental  proportions  of  infidelity ;  the  waste  of  the  stock  notions 
that  is  going  on  through  tendencies  generated  by  material  science ;  the 
vast  work  of  civilization  and  Christianization  which  opens,  impossible 
to  quarreling  sects,  but  not  difficult  to  harmonious  and  co-ordinated 
denominations,  each  working  and  suffered  to  work  in  its  own  way, 
and  suffering  all  others  to  work — these  are  providential  calls  to  the 
great  body  of  Christian  men  and  women  to  truce ;  to  new  leagues  of 
amity ;  to  cooperation  and  to  harmony. 

We  ask  not  that  any  should  cast  down  then-  altar,  but  that  they  should 
permit  us,  on  the  other  hand,  to  worship  unharmed  at  ours.  We  ask 
not  that  any  shall  revamp  their  creed,  but  that  it  may  not  be  considered 
a  crime  for  us  to  maintain  ours.  We  ask  none  to  let  the  full  sunlight 
pour  through  then-  windows,  instead  of  shutting  it  out  by  colored  and 
grotesqvte  panes.  If  they  prefer  their  windows  let  them  have  them;  and 
let  them  permit  us  to  have  om-s.  Let  us  look  for  a  true  humanity,  let 
us  look  for  the  true  fruit  of  reUgion,  not  in  the  associated  body  of  this 
or  that  denomination,  but  in  the  majesty  and  power  of  love  in  the 
individual  hearts  of  those  who  are  gathered  into  sects.  Let  us  look  no 
more  into  books,  merely.  Let  men  be  the  living  epistles  in  which  we 
shall  read  what  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  hath  to  teach  in  any  sect.  Here, 
in  the  outpoming  life,  where  religion  means  vital  power,  power  of  con- 
science, power  of  love,  power  of  faith,  power  of  beneficence,  power  of 
sympathy — here  let  there  be  cooperative  hai-mony  and  true  union. 
And  if  it  please  God,  with  a  civiUzation  which  comes  by  commerce, 
which  comes  by  intelligence,  which  comes  by  schools,  which  comes  by 
the  peculiar  position  of  all  parts  of  this  land — if  it  please  God,  with 
this,  at  length,  to  give  us  a  religion  that  shall  teach  men  to  love  one 
another,  then  we  shall  be  saved;  our  nation  wiU  be  maintained  by 
bonds  made  and  riveted  in  heaven,  which  no  instrument  yet  formed 
can  cut  or  sunder. 

Until  men's  reciprocal  mterests  upon  the  higher  plane  of  moral  ideas 
shall  be  better  understood,  until  rehgion  shall  be  a  uniting  and  not  a 
divisive  element,  we  must  with  more  eagerness  than  ever,  look  to  the 
hannonizing  influence  of  men's  reciprocal  interests  upon  the  lower  plane 
of  comniercial  and  industrial  life.  So  wide  spread  is  this  nation,  that 
it  has  within  itself  almost  all  the  elements  of  prosperity  which  other 
nations  seek  beyond  their  own  borders.  The  far  North  and  the  extreme 
South  work  for  different  products,  but  in  difference  they  find  reciprocal 


178  NATIONAL  UNITY. 

advantage.  If  legislation  be  hindered  fi'om  impertinent  interference 
and  restriction  of  oiu"  home  and  foreign  commerce,  if  industiy  be  left 
free  to  find  its  own  laws  and  channels,  we  shall  have  in  commerce  a  force 
drawing  together  into  undisseverable  unity  the  vast  districts  of  this  con- 
tinent, and  binding  them,  we  are  ashamed  to  say,  with  a  force  which  can- 
not yet  be  found  in  moral  or  social  influences.  For  human  nature  is  as 
yet  riper  and  wiser  at  the  bottom  than  at  the  top.  Self  interest  has 
more  power  in  promoting  peace  and  unity,  than  justice,  humanity  and 
religion. 

I  shall  advert  to  but  a  single  political  agency  in  the  maintenance 
of  National  Unity,  and  that  is  the  sacred  and  jealous  maintenance  ot 
the  nights  of  the  States,  and  the  vital  local  governments  of  States,  as 
distinguished  from  the  federal  and  national  government.  New  Eng- 
land, fi'om  her  earliest  colonial  days,  with  a  fervor  and  intensity  that 
have  never  been  sui-passed,  preserved  inviolate  the  one  political  doc- 
trine which  will  enable  this  vast  nation,  if  anything  will  enable  it,  to 
maintain  Federal  Unity ;  and  that  doctrine  is,  the  nights  of  the  States. 
When  the  wholesome  doctrine  of  States  Rights  reappeared  in  the  South, 
it  had  in  those  warm  latitudes  undergone  fermentation,  and  had  passed 
into  a  new  thing,  viz :  State  Sovereignty.  There  can  never  be  more  than 
one  sovei'eignty  in  a  political  body.  The  Nation  alone  is  Sovereign. 
It  is  to  be  sm-e,  a  limited  Sovereignty.  The  metes  and  bounds  have 
been  fixed.  All  within  them  is  Federal,  all  without  belong  to  the  in- 
dividual States.  Within  then  own  spheres  the  self  jurisdiction  of  the 
States  is  absolute.  It  cannot  be  meddled  with  or  usm-ped  by  the  gen- 
eral govermnent.  Things  belonging  to  any  single  State  alone,  and  not 
to  all  the  States  in  common,  must  be  under  the  supreme  disposal  of  that 
State.  This  simple  doctiine  of  State  rights — not  State  Sovereignty — 
will  cany  good  government  with  it,  through  all  the  continent.  No 
central  government  could  have  sympathy  and  wise  administrative  adapt- 
ation to  the  local  peculiarities  of  this  huge  nation,  couched  down  be- 
tween two  oceans,  whose  Southern  line  never  freezes,  and  whose 
Northern  border  never  melts. 

The  States  are  so  many  points  of  vitality.  The  nation,  like  a  Ban- 
yan tree,  lets  down  a  new  root  where  each  new  State  is  established,  and 
when  centuries  have  spread  then-  gigantic  commercial  tree  over  a  vast 
space,  it  will  be  found  that  the  branches  most  remote  from  the  centre  do 
not  impart  then  vitality,  can-ying  it  through  the  long  intricate  passages, 
from  the  parent  tnink,  but  each  outlying  growth  has  roots  of  its  own, 
and  di-aws  straight  from  the  ground  by  organisms  of  its  own,  all  the 
food  it  wants,  without  dissociating  its  top  from  the  parent  branches ! 

The  dignity  and  power  of  National  Sovert  :^:^nty  will  be  secured  by 
maintaining  unimpaired  the  local  rights  of  the  States. 


NATIONAL  UNITY.  179 

Let  us  all  labor  for  the  unity  of  the  nation,  for  the  education  of  its 
citizens,  for  the  spread  of  virtue  and  true  morality,  for  the  promotion 
of  an  industry  which  shall  redeem  the  poor  from  servile  and  sordid 
di'udgery,  for  the  freedom  of  its  commerce,  for  a  more  just  and  gen- 
erous sympathy  between  all  its  races  and  (classes,  for  a  more  benignant 
spirit  to  its  religion,  and  finally,  let  us  implore  the  God  of  our  Fathers, 
by  his  own  wise  providence,  to  save  us  from  om-  wanton  passions,  fi'om 
impertinent  egotism,  from  pride,  arrogance,  cruelty,  and  sensual  lusts, 
that  as  a  nation  we  may  show  forth  his  praises  in  all  the  earth ! 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  draw  near  to  thee,  our  heavenly  Father,  to  make  mention  of  thy  manifold  good- 
ness, through  which  our  lives  hare  been  spared,  and  by  which  we  have  been  loaded  with 
benefactions  innumerable.  Every  hour  of  every  day,  eveiy  moment  of  every  hour  of 
every  day,  bears  witness  to  thine  unending  care.  Thou  hast  commanded  all  thy  laws, 
that  they  forget  us  not ;  that  they  servo  us.  All  the  seasons  are  but  thy  servants,  min- 
istering  to  us,  thy  children.  And  thou  thyself,  by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  art  evermore  near  to 
us,  brooding  upon  our  hearts ;  lifting  us  into  life ;  bringing  us  toward  thine  own  self  by 
the  sweet  affinities  of  love. 

Forall  thy  goodness,  which  thou  hast  manifested  to  us  severally,  and  in  familieB, 
and  in  a  community  together,  we  desire  publicly,  and  with  unfeigned  thanks,  to  render 
thee,  this  day,  our  praise.  We  would  be  glad  before  thee,  and  rejoice  in  the  Lord.  We 
thank  thee  that  thou  hast  removed  war  from  our  borders,  and  given  us  again  peace;  and 
that  all  the  manifold  sufferings  which  came  by  reason  of  war  are  being  salved  by  thy 
kind  providence.  We  thank  thee  that  there  is  the  return  again  of  prosperity,  and  that 
there  are  indications  of  returning  confidence  and  love  among  alienated  brethren.  We 
thank  thee  for  all  the  auspicious  tokens  which  look  forward  to  better  times  to  come. 
We  thank  thee  that  there  are  the  seeds  of  intelligence  sown,  and  that  they  are  springing 
up  in  such  pleasant  plants  of  righteousness.  Wo  thank  thee  that  thou  art  giving  to  our 
citizens  so  much  of  harmony.  And  though  there  be  much  that  is  discordant  yet,  and 
though  conflicts  yet  lie  in  our  way,  and  we  must  take  the  future  by  storm,  the  kingdom 
suffering  violence,  and  the  violent  taking  it  by  force,  yet  we  rejoice  that  there  is  so  much 
of  encouragement  to  arm  us,  and  to  comfort  us;  and  wo  go  forward  in  our  way  of  life 
believing  that  thou,  O  Lord  God  of  our  fathers!  who  didst  inspire  them  with  wisdom 
to  make  wise  laws  and  true  governments,  wilt  be  with  their  children,  and  inspire  them 
with  wisdom  to  maintain  and  execute  wise  laws;  to  keep  intact  true  governments. 

We  pray  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  all  animal  fury,  and  from  all  corrupting  pas- 
sions, and  from  all  those  ambitions  and  conflicts  of  interest  by  which  we  are  in  danger. 
We  beseech  of  thee  tliat  all  our  strivings  may  be  rivalries  in  friendship,  and  in  thrift,  bj 
which  life,  and  not  death,  shall  spring  up. 

Wo  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanks  this  morning  for  the  great  pros- 
perity of  the  seasons;  for  the  harvests'  abundance  ;  for  a  propitious  heaven  and  a  fruitful 
earth.  Accept  our  thanks  for  the  measure  of  health  which  hath  prevailed  throughout  our 
land;  for  the  prosecution  of  so  many  enterprises  of  industry;  and  for  their  successful 
issues. 

We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  been  pleased  to  grant  stability  to  our  government, 
and  to  our  several  governmeiils  in  states.  We  thank  thee  that  this  great  nation,  so  little 
time  ago  storm-tossed  like  the  sra,  and  casting  up  its  bloody  waves  to  the  very  heavens, 
is  tranquil,  and  that  there  are  so  many  signs  of  continuing  peace  in  our  midst. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanksgiving  for  all  the  blessed  joys  of 
the  household;  for  the  purity  and  virtue  and  joyfulness  of  our  family  Me.    Wo  beseech 


180  NATIONAL  UNITY, 

of  thee  that  thou  -wilt  accept  our  thanks  for  all  the  prosperity  which  has  attended  the 
schools  and  colleges  and  seminaries  of  learning  in  our  land  ;  that  so  many  have  resorted 
to  them;  and  that  so  many  are  going  out  from  them,  as  stars  in  the  night,  to  bear  light 
and  guidance  to  those  that  are  less  favored. 

"We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanksgiving  for  all  the  mercies  which 
thou  hast  vouchsafed  to  us  through  our  church.  Although  we  behold  its  weakness,  and 
its  manifold  imperfections,  its  foundations  having  been  laid,  and  it  having  been  builded 
by  human  hands,  yet  we  rejoice  that  thou  art  willing  to  abide  in  such  instrumentalities, 
that  thou  mayest  bless  thy  people.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  purify  more 
and  more  thy  ministering  servants.  And  may  all  those  that  teacti  bo  taught  of  God. 
We  rejoice  that  thou  art  not  content  with  any  of  the  channels  which  are  appointed. 
More  than  the  church  can  hold  is  thy  favor  to  man.  Greater  than  all  else  is  that  out 
pouring  light  of  thy  free  Spirit  which  blesses  men  as  the  noonday  sun  in  all  the  earth. 
And  we  pray  thee,  O  Lord  our  God !  that  thou  wilt  continue  the  God  and  Father, 
the  Redeemer  and  Saviour,  of  mankind.  Arm  and  equip  all  those  great  agencies  that 
have  power  in  them,  that  they  may  work  for  that  which  is  spiritual  in  man,  and  not  for 
that  which  is  animal. 

Bless  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Remember  not  alone  our  own  land,  but  all  lands. 
May  the  work  of  civilization  go  forward.  May  knowledge  take  the  place  of  ignorance, 
and  true  faith  the  place  of  superstition,  and  all  the  earth  see  the  salvation  of  our  God. 

Let  thy  blessing  rest  with  us  while  we  shall  yet  sing  forth  thy  praises,  and 
while  we  shall  speak  messages  of  instruction.  Be  with  us  in  all  the  changes  of  this  day. 
And  as  we  are  gathered  together  in  our  houses,  with  our  dear  children  and  friends 
around  about  us,  let  not  our  love  and  joy  grow  selfish.  May  we  remember  the  less 
favored.  May  our  sympathies  go  out  to  all  the  children  of  want,  everywhere,  around 
about  us. 

And  so  may  we  live  in  the  midst  both  of  sorrows  and  joys,  chastised  by  the  one  and 
comforted  by  the  other,  until  we  are  prepared  in  this  school  of  life  for  our  heavenly 
home.  Then,  through  riches  of  grace  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,  take  us  to  our  eyerlast- 
ing  life.  And  we  will  give  the  praise  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  anJ  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  our  heavenly  Father,  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  the  year 
that  begins,  now,  from  this  the  anniversary  of  our  public  thanksgiving.  Grant  that  the 
light  of  truth  and  of  knowledge  may  shine  more  brightly  in  the  year  that  is  to  come, 
than  it  has  in  the  year  that  is  past.  Grant  that  all  the  influences  of  thy  Spirit,  working 
out  true  religion  in  vital  forms,  may  more  and  more  prevail  through  the  coming  year. 
May  we  be  faithful  to  our  several  instruments;  but  may  we  not  vox  each  other.  Let 
not  Ephraim  vex  Judah,  nor  Judah  vex  Ephraim.  May  there  bo  peace  in  our  borders — 
peace  not  alone  in  outward  interest;  peace  not  alone  where  men's  selfishness  teaches 
wisdom;  but  peace  to  the  conscience,  peace  in  faith,  and  peace  in  loving.  And  so  may 
thy  name  be  glorified.    We  ask  it  through  Christ  our  Redeemer.    Anien. 


/ 


XII. 

Social  Obstacles  to  Religion. 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION. 


'  And  a  man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  Ms  own  household."— Matt.  x.  38. 


You  will  remember  the  connection  in  which  this  passage  stands- 
Oui'  Saviour  sui-prised  his  heai'ers  by  saying — and  it  would  doubtless 
be  still  a  surprise  if  he  were  to  utter  it  in  our  midst — that  his  coming 
was  not  to  bring  "  peace ;"  that  is,  not  at  first.  He  came  to  send  "  a 
sword."  There  were  ten  thousand  connections  that  had  to  be  sundered 
in  the  spiiitual  development  of  his  kingdom.  The  sword  in  the  be- 
ginning ;  victory  and  peace  only  in  the  fai'  futui-e.  That  which  he 
declared  has  proved  true  in  every  age. 

There  is  na  other  influence  that  has  been  such  a  distui'bing  force 
as  Chi'istianity  ;  and  i^  has  been  distui'bing  in  proportion  as  it  was  pm-e 
and  sweet  and  loving.  There  has  been  nothing  else  that  has  wrenched 
off  so  many  roots  as  the  attempt  to  raise  up  generations  of  men  to  a 
higher  plane  than  that  on  which  they  had  been  living.  There  is  noth- 
ing that  stUl  lacerates  so  many  cords,  or  wounds  so  many  nerves,  as 
"when  in  a  community  the  moral  influence  on  any  subject  is  carried  up 
one  or  two  or  more  degrees  higher  than  it  has  been.  Communities  ai"e 
so  interaflSliated,  they  so  grow  together,  that  neither  one  j^erson,  nor  a 
given  number  of  persons,  nor  a  class,  nor  a  whole  community,  can  be 
lifted  up  without  deranging  the  combinations  that  have  been  formed. 
And  there  is  nothing  that  deranges  a  man's  social  connections  so  much 
as  his  entering  upon  a  vital,  active,  energetic,  spiiitual.  Christian  life. 

We  are  accustomed  to  think  of  religion  as  the  most  beautiful  and 
desirable  thing  in  the  world ;  and  many  persons  who  are  harmoniously 
related  to  then-  fellows  in  the  matter  of  religion — who  have  been  Chris- 
tianly  bred,  and  are  in  Chi-istian  families — can  scarcely,  lookmg  out  of 
the  windows  of  then-  own  experience,  imagine  how  it  can  be  that 
when  a  man  follows  Clu-ist  his  "foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  house- 
hold." There  are  many  whose  happy  experience  makes  it  impossible 
for  them  to  understand  this  except  speculatively.      But  he  knows  very 

Sunday  Evening,  Nov.  21,  18G9.  Lesson:  Matt.  X.— 32— 42.  Hymns  (riymouth  CoUeo- 
tlon)  Nos.  364,  635,  "Shining  Shore." 


182  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION: 

little  of  human  life  who  does  not  know  that  there  are  a  thousand  who 
are  differently  situated,  where  there  is  one  who  enjoys  peace  and  tran- 
quility in  his  religious*  experience.  Many  of  you  are  perfectly  weU 
awai'e  that  there  is  nothing  which  requu-es  more  courage,  more  zeal,  and 
more  help,  than  coming  up  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  plane  of  life,  and 
that  the  difficulties  spring  not  less  from  a  man's  sm-roundings,  than 
from  his  own  disposition.  It  is  not  simply  the  reluctance  of  his  own 
will,  it  is  not  merely  his  own  selfishness,  nor  is  it  alone  the  plea  and 
protest  of  his  lower  nature  against  the  higher,  that  stands  in  his  way. 
Those  who  ai'e  nearest  to  him,  who  have  the  most  interest  in  him,  and 
who  in  a  certain  sense  wish  him  well  more  than  any  others,  are  often 
the  very  ones  who  ai"e  most  in  his  way,  who  hang  heaviest  on  his  pur- 
pose, and  sometimes  draw  him  back  with  fatal  defection.  At  other 
tunes  they  di'aw  liim  back  so  as  to  double  and  quadi-uple  the  exertion 
required  for  him  to  break  away  from  evil  and  take  hold  upon  good. 
And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  "a  man's  foes"  are  "they  of  his  own 
household," 

No  one  has  the  power  to  do  by  you  what  that  man  can  who 
lives  next  to  you.  He  that  is  across  the  way,  or  in  a  distant  city,  and 
only  touches  you  thi'ough  some  outwaixl  channel  of  business,  may  have 
some  power  to  influence  you ;  but  he  has  no  such  power  as  one  whose 
heart  grows  into  yom*  heart — for  people  in  life  grow  like  honeysuckles, 
that  twine  and  twist  themselves  together,  so  as  to  forbid  any  separation 
except  by  the  knife. 

I  proi^ose  this  evening  to  &\iOw,  first,  the  reasons  why  men  labor  to 
prevent  then-  fellows  from  rising  to  a  vital  Christian  experience ;  second, 
the  motives  that  are  u^Don  men  who  are  seeking  a  higher  life ;  and 
third,  the  mode  of  overcoming  such  hindrances  and  resistances. 

1.  We  are  to  remember  that  social  life  is  not  merely  the  accidental 
juxtaposition  of  man  with  man.  Social  life,  even  in  its  smallest  divi- 
sions, instinctively  organizes  itself.  Where  there  are  half  a  dozen 
fiiends  who  have  been  accustomed  to  meet  so  that  they  constitute  a 
little  cu'cle  by  themselves,  each  one  that  moves  as  a  factor  of  this  little 
cu'cle  will  find  that  they  ai'e  so  interlaced  one  with  another,  they  are 
BO  woven  together,  that  they  have  a  common  interest  which  no  man 
among  them  can  meddle  with  without  affecting,  if  not  himself,  yet  his 
companions. 

A  discontented  thi-ead  in  a  bit  of  lace  wishes  to  withdi-aw  itself  from 
the  compact  of  the  loom ;  but  if  it  is  dj-awn  out,  the  whole  lace  is  in- 
jured. If  this  thi-ead  is  removed,  it  leaves  behind  it  gaps  that  are  fatal 
to  the  perfect  condition  of  those  that  remain. 

Here  ai'e  half  a  dozen  men  who  have  no  constitution,  no  by-laws, 
110  ex]>ressed  or  implied  agi'eement,  but  whose  lives  have  come  together 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  EELIGION.  183 

and  g]«o\^'n  into  each  other  like  the  over-crossing  roots  in  a  common 
sod,  one  of  which  you  cannot  transplant  without  cutting  half  a  dozen 
others.  If  you  take  one  out  of  this  company  of  men,  though  they  may 
not  know  what  is  the  matter,  they  feel  that  something  is  wrong.  One 
man  feels  his  pride  hurt  ;  another  feels  his  vanity  hurt ;  another  feels 
his  appetite  hmt ;  another  feels  his  interests  hurt.  They  cannot  ex- 
press it,  they  cannot  analyze  it,  they  do  not  know  anything  about  it ; 
but  here  is  the  truth  that  even  half  a  dozen  men  co-related  and  acting 
together  in  business  or  pleasm-e,  twine  together,  and  form  a  little  so- 
ciety, and  come,  in  a  short  time,  to  work  into  each  other,  just  as  Avheels 
do  in  a  machine. 

The  smallest  wheel  in  my  watch,  emigi'ating,  would  leave  all  the 
rest  of  the  wheels,  big  and  little,  in  a  very  sorry  plight.  Although  it 
may  be  very  small,  and  stand  on  its  own  rights  as  a  wheel,  yet,  after 
all,  it  has  been  cogged,  and  notched,  and  adjusted,  so  that  the  whole 
structure  depends  on  that.  You  might  as  well  smash  the  watch  as  to 
take  that  out.  Frequently  it  is  the  case  that  the  members  of  a  circle 
ai'e  so  affiliated,  so  exactly  fitted  to  each  other,  that  if  you  take  one 
out,  all  the  rest  are  dissevered.  And  it  is  not  surprising,  it  does  not 
imi^ly  any  great  degree  of  depravity,  to  say  that  where  a  number  of 
men  are  living  an  ordinary,  an  average,  social  life,  and  one  of  them  is 
insphed  with  a  higher,  a  holier  religious  purpose,  and  deshes  and  means 
to  go  up  on  a  level  that  none  of  them  have  been  standing  on,  his  emi- 
gration upward  wrenches  them  all.  And  it  is  not  strange  that  they  try 
to  stop  it. 

This  is  putting  it  upon  its  most  favorable  ground  ;  but  frequently 
not  so  much  as  this  can  be  said.  Men  are  often  enlightened  in  this 
matter.  They  form  little  groups  and  societies,  as  I  have  said,  and  they 
are  distinctly  conscious,  either  that  then-  life  together  is  not  a  religious 
one,  or  is  a  mixture  of  good  and  bad,  or  is  decidedly  bad.  Little  groups 
exist  all  through  society  that  do  not  wish  certain  demoralizing  elements 
taken  out  of  the  way,  because  these  elements  are  the  nerve  that  vibrates 
enjoyment  in  their  midst,  and  to  take  them  out  of  the  way  Avould  be  to 
destroy  the  pleasure  of  the  whole  groujj.  And  so,  when  one  Avould 
break  away  from  such  a  chcle,  by  entermg  upon  a  higher  religious  life, 
there  is  oftentimes  the  reluctance  and  resistance  which  comes  from  the 
imjioverishment  of  pleasure. 

Men  frequently  stand  related  to  each  other  in  such  a  way  that  if 
one  goes  out  of  the  circle,  it  is  like  the  gohig  of  one  out  fi-om  a  quar- 
tette of  singers.  The  other  three  are  leaner  on  account  of  the  absence 
of  that  one.  Especially  where,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  melody  runs, 
sometimes  into  the  tenor,  sometimes  into  the  base,  and  sometimes  into 
the  other  parts — if  one  or  two  are  gone,  the  others  cannot  sing. 


184  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIOION. 

It  often  happens  in  social  life  that  men  are  affiliated  in  such  a  way 
that  they  ai'e  dei^endent  upon  each  other  for  their  pleasui'es — so  depend 
ent  that  they  do  not  wish  any  one  to  escape  from  their  circle,  and  that 
if  one  doee  escape,  the  harmony  of  the  circle  is  broken  up. 

This  is  still  more  so  when  pleasm-e  takes  on  unallowed  forms. 
Where  the  public  sentiment  of  the  community  is  such  that  men  are 
obliged  to  evade  it,  as  they  often  do,  by  going  through  subten-anean 
channels ;  where  pleasures  are  defended,  it  may  be,  among  the  men 
themselves,  but  are  in  such  a  sense  illicit  that  they  do  not  cai'e  to  have 
them  come  to  light ;  there  is  under  such  cii'cumstances  a  secret  harmo- 
ny, an  understanding ;  each  one  is  a  sentinel  both  to  wai'n  of  danger 
and  detection  from  without,  and  to  keep  traitors  from  escaping  from 
within.  There  is  nothing  freer,  where  all  have  confidence  in  each 
other,  than  men  in  an  Ulicit  course  of  pleasure,  and  nothing  more  joy- 
ous for  the  time  being — at  any  rate  in  its  rosy  hours ;  and  yet,  there  is 
nothing  more  jealous  and  nothing  more  angerable  than  men  who  are 
associated  together  in  pleasures  which  may  be  sweet  to  the  taste,  but 
which  the  public  sentiment,  if  not  then*  own  conscience,  disallows. 
And  if  one  of  them  attempts  to  escape,  it  is  the  worst  kind  of  trea- 
son, because  it  is  treason  on  the  most  sensitive  spot — on  the  very  point 
of  then-  organization.  And  it  is  not  strange  that  they  clutch  at  the 
escaping  one,  and  by  the  garments,  if  possible,  di-aw  him  back  again. 

It  is  frequently  the  case,  too,  that  the  escape  of  one  from  a  cu'cle 
towards  a  true  and  high  religious  life  is  hindered  on  account  of  the 
social  ambitions  which  prevaU.  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  should 
wear  a  crown  on  his  head  to  be  a  kmg.  You  never  saw  ten  men  to- 
gether that  there  was  not  a  king  among  them.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
there  should  be  a  tiara  or  a  sceptre  to  make  a  pope.  There  never  were 
half  a  dozen  men  together  that  one  of  them  was  not  a  pope.  It  is  not 
in  politics  alone  that  there  are  systems  of  ranks  and  honors.  There 
never  was  a  household  in  which  there  was  not  an  organized  system  in 
which  the  principle  of  ambition,  of  superiority  and  inferiority,  did  not 
have  its  play.  There  never  was  a  little  cu-cle  gathered  around  about 
some  bright  centre,  some  radiant  woman,  for  instance,  as  in  the  French 
regimes,  that  there  were  not  aristocrats,  monarchs  of  the  cu-cle ;  that 
there  were  not  those  who  felt  proud  that  they  had  the  power  to  enter- 
tain then-  companions — one  by  his  wit,  it  may  be ;  another  by  his 
humor ;  another  by  his  reason  ;  another  by  his  recitation  of  curious 
thino-s.  Each  one  comes  to  the  cncle  with  his  contribution,  and  for 
the  time  being  he  is  regnant,  and  the  others  look  upon  him  and  rejoice, 
and  burn  incense  to  him.  And  in  turn  they  are  flattered  and  praised- 
And  being  flattered  and  praised,  they  come  to  hanker  for  flattery  and 
praise.     And  it  is  very  hard  to  see  any  of  those  who  have  been  accus- 


800 I AL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION.  185 

tomed  to  burn  incense  before  you  go  to  other  gods.  Men  hate  idols, 
with  one  exception — when  they  themselves  are  the  idols.  Every  man 
wants  to  be  an  idol,  and  to  have  other  folks  swing  incense  before  him. 
And  if  anything  takes  place  by  which  men  are  led  to  fear  that  they 
are  going  to  lose  then'  frankincense,  they  snuff  at  it. 

And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  if  a  person  in  a  bright  and  radiant 
cu'cle  of  friends  is  about  to  separate  himself  fi-om  that  circle,  anxious 
uiquuy  is  made,  "Ai-e  you  sick?"  "No,  not  sick,  but  serious."  The 
worst  of  all  possible  sicknesses  is  seriousness,  it  is  thought,  when 
it  means  rising  up  to  a  higher  plane  of  life.  And  cu-cles  defend 
themselves  against  men  that  are  going  to  desert  under  such  ckcum- 
stanees. 

Another  element  which  comes  into  play  in  analyzing  the  reasons 
why  persons  endeavor  to  prevent  the  escape  of  men  to  a  higher  re- 
ligious plane,  is  the  judgment  and  rebuke  which  is  always  reflected,  by 
such  a  course,  upon  then-  own  career.  Every  man  is  the  natural  and 
appointed  judge  and  censor  of  all  those  who  are  doing  worse  than  he. 
A  handsome  man  interprets  and  measm-es  the  homeliness  of  the  homely 
people  that  come  near  him.  A  tall  man  makes  men  short  that  are  not 
80  tall  as  he  is.  He  does  not  do  it  on  pm-pose  ;  he  cannot  help  him- 
self. I  have  known  short  men  who  would  not  go  into  a  room 
where  there  was  a  tall  man.  They  desired  to  have  all  the  benefit 
of  their  height  without  any  unfavorable  comparison.  A  strong  rea- 
Boner  reflects  the  inferiority  of  a  poor  reasoner.  A  good  man  is  the 
natm-al  judge  of  a  bad  man.     And  so  it  is  all  the  M'ay  through  life. 

Now,  in  a  circle  of  men  who  are  coordinated  with  a  certain  sort  of 
moral  quality,  who  wink  at  each  other's  sins,  and  promote  each  other's 
pleasure,  at  the  same  time  helping  each  other's  consciences  by  main- 
taining a  kind  of  conventional  agreement,  let  one  be  struck  with  the 
fire  of  a  nobler  aspiration,  and  let  his  conscience  begin  to  stii-  itself  like 
a  sleeping  eagle  that  knows  sunrise  is  coming,  and  all  the  others  will 
begin  to  find  their  consciences  troubling  them.  And  they  do  not  like 
to  be  troubled  by  their  consciences.  They  do  not  feel  the  inspu'ation 
which  their  companion  does,  but  they  feel  the  reaction  of  that  inspi- 
ration in  the  form  of  rebuke ;  and  they  do  not  like  it.  If  one  of  a  circle 
of  men  who  indulge  in  intoxicating  diinks,  who  are  addicted  to  intem- 
perance— not  gross,  beastly  di'unkenness,  but  refined  intemperance — if 
one  of  a  circle  of  such  men  becomes  clean-lipped,  his  clean  lips  become 
a  standing  rebuke  to  those  whose  lips  are  wet  eveiy  day  and  every 
night.  They  have  been  accustomed  to  enjoy  themselves,  unrebuked, 
in  animal  and  social  indulgence,  in  illicit  pleasure  ;  and  they  have  been 
a  mutual  insurance  company,  in  order  that  no  man  should  suffer  rebuke 
in  the  presence  of  the  others;  and  if  one  of  their  number  bieaks  awaj 


18G  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION. 

and  stands  up  so  that  they  all  see  that  theu*  lives  are  grossly  "s\d:jked, 
"he  becomes  to  them  like  a  wai-ning  angel,  pointing  them  to  the  day  of 
judgment.  And  in  such  cases  men  that  have  been  kind,  and  genial, 
and  charitable,  often  become  censorious,  and  disagreeable,  and  mali- 
cious, for  no  reason  except  that  one  of  then-  companions  wishes  to 
change  his  habits  and  be  a  Christian.  He  has  had  very  little  experience 
in  life  who  has  not  seen  this. 

Real,  not  ordinary  religion,  is  the  thing  that  brings  about  these  re- 
sults. A  man  can  change  sects  a  great  deal  easier  than  he  can  rise  in 
the  sect  where  he  is  to  a  higher  life.  A  man  can  go  out  of  the  Pres- 
byterian church  into  the  Methodist  church,  and  not  be  a  bit  better  than 
he  was  before.  A  man  can  go  out  of  the  Methodist  church  into  the 
Congregational  church  and  not  be  a  bit  better  than  he  was  before. 
Emigration  does  not  change  character.  A  Protestant  may  become  a 
Roman  Catholic,  or  a  Roman  Catholic  may  become  a  Protestant,  with- 
out being  any  better  or  worse  than  he  was  before.  Therefore,  men  of 
a  cu'cle  will  frequently  let  each  other  escape  and  change  sect  without 
any  protest.  But  when  a  man  proposes  to  himself  reformation,  and  a 
higher  life,  the  cases  is  quite  different. 

A  man  says  to  his  companions,  "  Look  here !  I  am  going  to  quit 
Sunday  frolics."  "  What !"  say  they,  "  you  are  not  going  to  be  sober  ?" 
"  Well,  no  ;  I  am  going  to  church  with  my  wife."  "  Oh !  going  to  be 
pious."  "  I  am  going  to  get  some  religion.  I  think  I  undei-stand  my- 
self I  shall  be  with  you  all  the  week  long ;  but  on  Sunday  I  will  go 
to  church."  "  Oh !  that  is  all  right.  You  put  on  piety  as  a  sort  of  in- 
surance. It  will  make  you  a  better  fellow,  no  doubt.  Religion  is  very 
resj)ectable.     It  is  not  a  bad  thing  for  you  to  have." 

A  man  arrives  at  that  time  of  life  when  he  is  married,  and  begins 
to  have  children  about  him,  and  he  wants  to  see  his  childi-en  occupy 
good  places  in  society ;  and  he  thinks  it  proper  for  one  in  his  cu-- 
cumstances  to  let  the  world  see  that  he  has  religion  somewhere.  He 
wants  a  religion  that  will  not  trouble  him  too  much,  but  that  will  take 
care  of  his  sins,  and  insure  his  immortality.  The  idea  which  thousands 
of  persons  have  of  religion,  is,  that  it  is  a  kind  of  insurance  company  for 
middle-aged  people  who,  for  social  reasons,  should  have  a  kind  of  com- 
mitment of  this  sort. 

Therefore,  you  shall  find  that  men  may  change  and  shift  about  in 
these  ways  without  exciting  any  oppugnancy  among  their  cu-cle.  It  is 
when,  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  man's  soul  begins  to  lift  itself 
up  toward  its  immortality  ;  it  is  when  all  that  is  bad  in  a  man,  or  all 
the  good  in  him  that  is  perverted  to  bad  pui-poses,  begins  to  get  the 
buffet,  and  his  reason,  and  higher  affections,  and  moral  sentiments 
begii!  to  be  freer,  larger,  and  more  controlling  in  his  life — ^it  is  then  that 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  BELIGION.  187 

religion  separates  him  from  all  those  who  will  not  go  on  with  him  in 
his  new  career. 

It  is  under  such  chcumstances  that  men  say,  "If  you  will  not  chink 
with  us  you  are  not  of  us ;  if  you  wUl  not  work  with  us  without  scrujjle, 
you  are  not  of  us  ;  if  you  will  not  walk  hand  in  hand  with  us,  you  are 
not  of  us."  And  if  a  man  is  brought  under  the  divine  influence,  and 
he  says,  "  I  am  God's,  and  I  must  obey  his  laws,"  then  the  line  of 
division  is  run. 

Oftentimes  this  takes  place  under  cu'cumstances  which  are  exceeding- 
ly trying,  as  where  it  separates  husband  and  wife,  or  parents  and  chil- 
di'en,  or  near  friends,  or  lovers,  or  partners  in  business.  When  reli- 
gion has  this  effect,  it  is  \ike  a  fire  that  runs  between  men,  and  burns 
eveiything  in  its  course. 

2.  Let  us  see  what  the  motives  are  by  which  this  social  hindrance 
works. 

In  the  fii'st  place,  there  is  the  battle  of  fear  into  which  men  go. 
Fear  is  thought  to  be  a  very  ignoble  quality.  You  are  mistaken  if  you 
take  that  view  of  it.  Fear  has  not  merely  a  low,  basilar  function. 
Although  it  may  have  a  low  form,  it  rises  and  takes  on  higher  forms. 
It  gives  an  edge  to  every  one  of  the  feelings.  Fear  joins  itself  to 
reason,  and  then  it  is  an  intellectual  force.  It  joins  itself  to  conscience, 
and  to  taste,  and  to  love.  Fear  pervades  the  mind,  and  every  single  feel- 
ing. So  when  men  say  that  fear  is  ignoble,  they  do  not  understand  the 
range  of  its  operations.  Many  men  are  wi'ought  upon  by  fear.  It  ope- 
rates differently  on  different  men,  according  to  differences  in  then* 
nature  or  faculties.  Some  men  are  utterly  devoid  of  fear.  You  might 
as  well  attempt  to  dissolve  a  slate  roof  by  allowing  the  rain  to  fall  on 
it,  as  to  attempt  to  affect  some  people  through  the  motive  of  fear. 
Some  are  stimulated  and  braced  up  by  fear.  Others  are  weakened  and 
pulled  down  by  it.  In  some  cases  it  acts  like  a  malaria,  and  prepares 
the  way  for  other  things. 

From  the  highest  to  the  lowest  feeling,  men  are  plied  with  this  mo- 
tive of  fear.  Sometimes  it  is  in  one  shape,  and  sometimes  in  another ; 
but  whatever  shape  it  is  in,  meil  know  how  to  use  it  against  each  other. 
It  is  the  instinct  by  which  men  manage  one  another  for  harm.  If  we 
were  half  as  Avise  in  snaring  men  to  good  as  we  are  in  snaring  them  to 
evil ;  if  there  were  the  same  wisdom,  the  same  instinct,  by  Which  we 
should  know  when  to  take  them  and  how  to  touch  them  for  their  ben- 
efit, that  there  is  by  which  we  know  when  to  take  them  and  how  to 
touch  them  for  their  harm,  how  glorious  it  would  be  !  For  men  are  to 
men  in  things  bad,  as  a  musician  is  to  his  instrument,  who  knows  all 
its  peculiarities  of  temperament  and  habit,  and  is  facile  with  it.  Men 
know  perfectly  well  how  to  deal  with  things  that  are  worldly,  carnal, 


188  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  BELIGION. 

devilish.     It  is  only  when  we  rise  to  the  nobler  development  of  manii 
hood  that  men  ai"e  unskilled  and  awkward. 

Next  is  the  battle  of  interest.  Men  try  to  dissuade  their  fellow 
men  fi'om  true  I'eligion  on  account  of  the  effects  which  it  will  have 
upon  their  interests  in  life.  These  effects  are  oftentimes  produced  on 
their  business  interests.  Men  say,  to  then- companions,  "Look  here, 
my  good  fellow ;  there  is  no  harm  in  your  being  religious  if  you  do  not 
make  a  fool  of  yourself.  Election  is  coming  on  ;  and  if  you  want  to 
ioin  the  church,  and  you  think  it  will  do  you  any  good,  in  the  name  of 
reason,  join  it ;  but,  as  youi*  own  Bible  says,  let  your  moderation  he 
Jcnown  to  all  men.  If  you  want  to  do  the  thing  up  like  a  gentleman, 
why,  go  into  the  church;  but  do  not  make  a  fuss  about  it.  You  are 
smart,  you  are  brilliant,  and  if  you  are  sensible  and  wise  you  have 
hardly  anything  to  do  but  just  to  wait,  and  the  people  will  gradually 
drop  into  your  hands,  and  you  will  rise  step  by  step ;  but  if  you  are 
going  back  on  your  friends  in  this  way,  how  ar-e  they  going  to  elect 
you  to  anything  ?  If  you  are  going  to  be  good,  that  is  the  end  of  any 
chance  for  you.  You  cannot  use  any  such  material,  and  therefore  yom* 
interests  do  not  requu-e  it.  You  mean  to  be  a  successful  lawyer,  you 
mean  to  rise  to  the  position  of  a  judge,  you  mean  by-and-by  to  be  a 
member  of  Congi*ess,  and  perhaps  you  have  some  idea  of  one  day  being 
President ;  but  if  you  are  going  to  realize  these  expectations  you  must 
begin  right.  You  must  not  let  yom-self  down  on  yom-  old  friends.  If 
you  go  into  the  chm-ch,  and  take  on  religion  in  good  earnest,  you  may 
turn  out  a  minister,  but  you  will  not  succeed  in  anything  else." 

It  is  not  I  that  is  saying  this.  You  know  that  I  am  faintly  echoing 
human  nature  and  human  experience. 

To  another  it  is  said,  "  Why  do  you  break  up  our  little  circle  by 
going  out  of  it?  You  say  you  are  going  to  be  a  Methodist."  "Oh! 
no,  not  that,"  says  the  man ;  "  but  I  am  going  to  live  Christianly." 
"  But  you  cannot  live  Christianly  and  advance  your  social  position.  I 
recollect  what  you  started  from.  You  came  to  the  city,,  you  know,  a 
poor  boy.  You  had  everything  to  make ;  and  you  have  got  along  re- 
markably well.  You  have  good  business  talents.  Three  years  ago 
you  had  no  influence.  Now  you  have  been  invited  to  the  house  of  the 
piincipal  of  the  firm.  He  has  fine  daughters ;  and  you  have  as  good  a 
chance  of  getting  one  of  them  as  anybody.  You  are  a  well  made, 
snugly  built,  handsome  fellow,  and  are  pleasing  in  your  manners ;  and 
if  you  only  understand  your  hand,  there  is  no  trouble  in  your  rising. 
Wait  five  years,  and  you  can  take  your  picJc.  Everybody  who  has 
daughters,  and  has  money,  wants  the  best  kind  of  son  in-law;  and  you 
are  in  the  market ;  and  you  are  not  going  to  throw  yourself  away.  If 
you  do  not  go  up  there  when  invited,  and  join  in  card  and  champagne 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION.  189 

parties  without  regard  to  your  scruples,  you  will  make  a  fool  of  your- 
self, and  stand  right  in  yom*  own  light." 

If  I  should  go  to  these  men,  and,  in  this  bald,  vulgar  way,  hold  up 
secular  interest  as  a  motive  to  religion,  how  they  would  resent  it !  But 
they  do  not  hesitate  to  hold  up  professional  and  social  prospects  as  mo- 
tives to  Avi'ong  conduct! 

But  sometimes  it  comes  home  nearer  than  that.  An  old  surly  man 
has  a  boy  that  he  has  meant  should  succeed  him,  and  be  the  heir  of  his 
property,  and  take  his  place,  and  manage  for  him,  if  he  would  only  be 
greedy,  and  coarse  minded,  and  learn  how  to  take  a  creditor  by  the 
throat  and  squeeze  him  till  the  blood  flows  out  of  his  pockets !  But  the 
old  man  hears  that  the  boy  has  been  attending  "  those  cui'sed  religious 
meetings ;"  and  he  says,  "  If  that  boy  is  going  to  get  his  head  full  of 
crotchets,  and  talk  about  "  generosity,"  and  that  sort  of  nonsense,  I 
will  cut  him  oflT  without  a  shilling."  He  calls  the  boy  to  him,  and 
says,  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you  T  The  boy  does  not  know  what 
does  ail  him.  He  only  knows  that  he  feels  very  bad.  He  is  satisfied 
that  he  is  all  wrong  with  his  circumstances.  And  he  blushes,  and  is 
ashamed,  and  is  ashamed  because  he  is  ashamed.  And  at  last  he  says, 
"  I  am  going  to  join  the  church."  And  he  means  more  by  that  than 
you  think,  perhaps.  There  is  a  dim  consciousness  in  him  that  he  has 
not  been  living  a  fit  life,  that  he  has  -not  been  pursuing  a  manly  course ; 
and  he  is  determined  that  somehow  or  other  he  will  break  away  from 
the  things  that  are  holding  him  down,  and  get  hold  of  something  that 
will  carry  him  higher.  And  his  father  is  "sweet  on  him,"  as  it  is  said 
when  a  man  is  bitter ;  and  there  is  a  pretty  quarrel  started  very  quick. 
The  young  man  is  threatened.  "  Now  do  you  choose.  If  you  mean 
to  be  as  sensible  as  you  have  been  heretofore ;  if  you  mean  to  be  obe- 
dient (and  he  reminds  him  that  the  Bible  says  that  childi'en  ought  to 
obey  then-  parents) ;  if  you  mean  to  walk  in  the  path  that  I  have  marked 
out  for  you,  why,  it  will  all  go  well  with  you ;  and  I  would  as  lief 
divide  a  little  with  you  now.  And  when  I  am  dead  you  shall  have  the 
whole  of  my  property.  But  if  you  persist  in  going  with  that  sort  of 
people,  and  become  a  ranting  Methodist,  that  will  be  the  end  of  it.  I  will 
find  some  other  heir.  Your  cousins  are  quite  willmg  to  take  your  place." 

This  strong  and  most  vulgar  appeal  would  be  conclusive  to  some 
natures.  It  would  set  them  up.  "As  for  me,"  they  would  say,  "from 
this  time  forth  I  serve  the  Lord.''  But  there  are  others  who  would  be 
cowed  down  by  it.  There  ai-e  some  men  who  are  very  accessible  to 
such  resistance. 

In  all  these  ways,  and  in  many  others  that  I  cannot  describe,  men's 
interests  are  assailed.  And  do  not  you  begin  to  see  that  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  meaning  in  the  declaration,  "  A  man's  foes  shall  be  they 


190  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION. 

of  his  own  household"?  Sometimes  I  have  read  the  passage,  "If  any 
man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross 
and  follow  me;" and  you  have  wondered  about  that;  but  do  not  you 
see,  as  I  analyze  the  exj^eriences  of  actual  life,  how  full  the  world  is  of 
that  which  requu-es  just  such  dealing  as  the  battle  and  struggle 
through  which  we  are  passing  ? 

Then  there  are  i^ersons  who  are  peculiarly  sensitive  to  praise.  The 
love  of  approbation  is  strong  in  them.  They  love  favor,  though  they 
may  not  love  flattery  nor  compliment.  There  is  a  subtle  quality  in 
them  such  that  they  cannot  bear  to  be  on  the  shady  side  of  men's  opin- 
ions. They  are  peculiarly  happy  when  the  sun  shines  on  their  souls 
through  other  men's  favor.  And  under  such  cu"cumstances  it  is  pecu- 
liarly the  case  that  men  are  assailable  through  the  direct  or  indirect 
influence  of  their  love  of  praise.  Therefore  it  is  tnat  a  cautious  and 
delicate-minded  man  can  say  things  that  will  rankle  like  poison  in  a 
young  man's  heart ; — and  how  much  more  a  woman !  A  woman's  eye, 
her  tongue  being  mute,  can,  with  one  glance,  at  the  right  time,  cut  a 
man  like  a  lancet.  A  cu'cle  can,  by  a  judicious  silence,  make  a  man 
feel  as  though  the  fogs  of  New  Foundland  were  on  him.  A-  man  by 
skillful  treatment  can  be  made  to  feel  as  if  he  were  a  red-hot  iron  on  an 
anvil,  with  strokes  falling  on  him  thick  and  fast.  And  to  somo  natures 
such  dealing  is  enough  to  well  nigh  crush  the  life  out  of  them.  They 
shrink  and  shrivel  under  it.  Pity  them.  Do  not  blame  them  too  se- 
verely. It  is  then-  weakness,  though  it  may  be  then-  crime.  While 
they  are  weak  there,  you  are  weak  in  some  other  point,  so  that  you 
need  succor,  too.  There  ai*e  many  persons  who  would  fain  escape  as  a 
bii'd  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler ;  but  they  cannot  go  against  this 
raillery — this  battle  of  ridicule  waged  with  eyes  and  tongues.  Raillery 
mingled  Avith  kindness,  and  employed  in  a  winning  way,  is  an  admu-- 
able  instrument  for  innocent  pleasure.  But  have  you  never  seen  it 
wielded  as  a  weapon  of  mischief  ? 

Then  there  is  the  battle  of  dissuasion — not  persuasion  to  great  evils, 
perhaps,  nor  to  any  immoralities ;  but  dissuasion  from  a  higher  life. 
"  Do  not  give  yourself  up,"  it  is  said  to  one  who  is  awakened  to  his 
spiiitual  condition,  "to  God  and  spu'ituality.  Live  among  men,  and 
be  a  man.  Stay  with  us.  Do  not  leave  us."  And  it  is  very  hard  for 
a  generous  soul,  a  true  nature  that  believes  in  fidelity  to  every  relation, 
to  go  out  from  the  circle  to  which  he  belongs,  against  theii-  afiectionate 
appeals.     Ye  are  my  witnesses,  many  of  you. 

It  is  not  unfrequently  the  case  that  when  one  is  disposed  to  rise 
from  the  level  of  a  common  enjoyable  life  to  a  truly  religious  and 
spiritual  life,  those  in  his  cu'cle  attempt  to  stop  him  by  undermining 
his  religion.     Thej  say  to  him,  "  Religion  is  well  enough  in  its  way » 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION.  191 

it  has  good  uses  ;  but  there  is  nothing  in  it  at  the  bottom."  And  fre- 
quently when  one  is  inspu'ed  with  such  nascent  religious  desires,  some 
old  head  takes  him  in  hand,  apparently  to  probe  him  and  see  how 
much  he  knows,  but  really  to  unsettle  his  faith,  and  put  in  its  place 
doubt  and  scepticism.  And  it  is  much  easier  to  unsettle  a  man's  faith 
than  to  establish  it.  It  is  ten  thousand  times  harder  to  remove  a  doiibt 
than  to  infix  it.  It  is,  perhaps,  with  some  difficulty  that  j^ou  can  arouse 
a  jealous  thought  between  two  friends ;  but  when  it  is  once  aroused,  it 
is  like  salt-rheum  in  the  blood,  which  breaks  out  here  and  there 
on  the  body,  and  cannot  be  disj^elled  by  medicine.  And  doubts — es- 
pecially fundamental  doubts — are  diseases  of  the  blood  spiritual.  Some- 
times they  wound  the  soul  to  its  very  slaying. 

Men  also  hold  up  to  those  who  are  disposed  to  escape,  the  lives  of 
Christians.  They  bring  before  them  all  the  scandal  of  the  church. 
They  call  their  attention  to  the  partialisms  of  men's  lives.  They  re- 
mind them  of  the  possibilities  of  their  not  succeeding.  "  Even  if  religion 
is  true,"  say  they,  "  it  is  a  great  journey  that  you  are  not  fitted  for,  and 
that,  therefore,  you  have  unwisely  undertaken.  Though  there  might 
be  circumstances  in  which  it  would  be  wise  for  you  to  undertake  it, 
those  cu'cumstances  do  not  now  exist." 

Active  measm-es  are  frequently  taken  to  prevent  men  from  follow- 
ing their  convictions  and  entering  upon  a  Christian  life.  They  are 
treated  as  if  they  were  patients.  Little  parties  are  gotten  up  for  them. 
Most  agreeable  offices  of  kindness  are  discharged  toward  them.  Their 
interest,  their  fear,  and  their  love  of  praise,  are  brought  into  the  service. 
All  the  ways  in  which  the  mind  can  be  subtly  and  gently  played  upon 
to  turn  them  back  from  the  course  which  they  believe  to  be  right,  and 
•which  they  would  fixin  pursue,  are  resorted  to. 

Then  comes  the  last  and  the  hardest  battle — that  of  love,  "  Oh, 
my  wife,"  says  the  husband,  "  I  feel  like  death  to  have  you  go.  What 
am  I  ?  I  cannot  go.  And  we  have  lived  together  so  many  years 
without  any  discord,  that  it  seems  very  hard  that  you  should  go,  and 
that  we  should  be  separated.  It  is  a  divorce.  I  cannot  live  so."  It 
is  harder  than  to  face  Mount  Sinai,  where  true  lovers  are  united  to- 
gether and  one  turns  to  the  other  and  says,  "  It  is  fatal.  There  cannot 
any  longer  be  unity  of  life.  There  can  no  longer  be  any  such  thing  as 
that  perfect  sympathy  which,  like  a  chorded  harp,  gives  out  harmonious 
music  from  all  the  different  strings.  If  you  get  into  a  religious  state  of 
mind,  both  of  us  will  be  wi-etched." 

It  is  when  such  things  as  these  take  place,  that  the  words,  "A  man's 
foes  shall  be  they  of  his  o^-n  household,"  develop  their  true  meaning. 
When  read  glibly  as  they  often  are,  they  sound  like  distant  drum-taps 
in  time  of  peace :   but  they  sound  like  the  long  roll  in  time  of  wai* 


192  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION. 

when  brought  down  to   home-instances  like  those  to  which  I  have 
alhided. 

'■^Ile  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of 
m,e  y  a7id  he  that  loveth  son  or  daughter  m,ore  than  m,e,  is  not  worthy 
of  me."  This  is  anguish,  when  a  soul  is  enlightened  to  feel  its  duty  of 
allegiance  to  God,  and  the  power  of  the  world  to  come  is  ujDon  it.  As 
bhds,  when  then-  time  of  emigi*ation  comes,  and  they  feel  the  impulse 
to  fly  to  the  summei'-land,  and  will  not  be  stopped,  either  by  the  snap 
of  the  fowler's  gun,  or  by  the  swoop  of  the  hawk,  or  by  any  solicitation, 
but  rise,  and  fly  through  night  and  through  day,  to  find  that  summer- 
land  ;  so  souls  feel  the  fascinating  call  of  God,  and,  rising,  soar — and 
must,  because  the  Holy  Ghost  is  upon  them. 

Where,  in  cases  like  these,  the  brother  pleads  with  the  sister,  or  the 
sister  with  the  brother,  or  the  parent  with  the  child,  or  the  child  with 
the  parent,  or  the  husband  with  the  wife,  or  the  wife  with  the  husband, 
or  the  lover  with  the  loved,  it  rends  the  very  soul.  And  yet,  no  drop 
of  blood  was  ever  shed  that  one  might  be  true  to  his  own  convictions, 
that  God  did  not  make  that  the  seat  of  joy,  unmeasured  and  abound- 
ing. Oftentimes  the  very  pang  and  anguish  that  are  sufifered,  are  the 
labor  pains  by  which  other  souls  are  bom  into  God's  kmgdom.  Fre- 
quently, under  such  cu-cumstanccs,  simple,  calm  fidelity  breaks  the 
snare  and  the  charm  that  holds  back  one  who  is  called  to  go  and  ap- 
pear in  Zion  and  before  God.  How  knowest  thou,  oh  pleading  hus- 
band !  but  that  God  will  give  thee  thy  wife  %  How  knowest  thou,  oh 
pleading  wife  !  but  that  God  will  give  thee  thy  husband? 

There  are  other  cases  that  I  cannot  mention,  from  reasons  of  deli- 
cacy— ^the  pleadings  of  partners  of  common  wrong  with  each  other — 
the  great  book  unread  here,  but  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance  like 
the  mysterious  characters  that  are  wi'itten  in  invisible  ink,  and  that 
come  out  on  being  exposed  to  light  and  heat, — ^the  great  unwritten 
book  which  contains  a  record  of  men's  thoughts,  and  feelings,  and 
silent  transgi-essions.  There  is  nothing  like  the  unexpressed  life  of 
souls  in  this  world.  And  there  linger  within  the  precincts  of  this  house 
those  who  know  that  if  it  were  not  for  these  holdings  back,  these 
golden  fetters,  these  silken  chains,  they  would  start  up  instantly  and 
be  men  in  Christ  Jesus.  And  woe,  immortal  and  tenible,  to  the 
guilty  one  who  slays  the  soul  of  his  partner,  and  calls  it  love !  It  is  be- 
traying Christ  again  with  a  kiss,  to  betray  one  of  his  disciples  with  a 
kiss  to  his  damnation.     Let  him  go.     Do  not  hinder  him. 

It  only  remains  that  I  should  speak  of  the  modes  of  resistance 
that  one  may  lawfiilly  set  up  against  these  things. 

First,  it  should  be  made  clear  that  you  are  in  earnest,  and  sincere, 
and  that  that  which  is  upon  you  is  not  a  mere  freak  and  whim.      In 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION:  193 

i 

other  words,  that  very  coui'se  which  you  frequently  take,  half  to  con- 
ceal, and  half  to  cover  with  a  laugh  the  self-ridiculing  smile,  is  very 
fatal.  That  which  will  set  you  right  sooner  than  anything  else,  is  evi- 
dence that  youi'  feelings  of  asphation  and  yearning  for  a  higher  life 
are  real  and  deep.  If  God  has  called  you  to  such  a  life,  and  you  have 
heai'd  and  know  his  tones,  do  not  let  anything  beguile  you  into  the  pre- 
tence that  it  is  not  the  voice  of  God,  and  that  it  is  but  little  to  you. 
Be  in  earnest.  Let  men  see  that  you  are  in  earnest.  Take  ground, 
and  having  taken  it  keep  it,  whatever  it  may  cost  you.  Take  it  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  You  must  resort  to  no  half-way  measures, 
for  that  will  increase  the  fervor  of  your  enemies,  and  give  them  hope 
that  with  redoubled  exertion  they  can  win  you  back  to  yourself,  and 
your  hresolution  will  be  but  the  occasion  of  youi*  being  plied  more 
vigorously  With  attempts  to  balk  and  destroy  yom*  better  hopes  and 
purposes.     Be  resolute.     Be  sincere. 

If  possible,  take  with  you  yom*  comj^anions.  How  blessed  is  that 
solution  where  the  whole  household  go  !  "  If  thou  wilt  go,  Oh  my 
wife  !"  let  it  be  said,  "then  I  will  go  with  thee."  If  Adam  went  with 
Eve  in  the  fii-st  transgression,  so  since,  full  often,  when  Eve  would 
pluck  the  apple  fi'om  the  tree  of  life,  love  has  earned  her  companion 
with  her.  How  blessed  it  is  for  the  whole  ckcle  to  go !  But  if  you 
ai'e  ready  to  go,  and  your  associates  will  not  go,  wait  not  for  them.  Of 
all  the  snares  and  blandishments  by  which  you  will  be  beset,  the  worst 
will  be  those  by  which  Satan  will  attempt  to  carry  you  back  again.  Do 
not  be  deceived  by  those  who  say,  "Do  not  go  too  fast  and  too  far,  and 
you  will  cany  your  friends  all  with  you."  While  you  are  waiting  you 
will  lose  yom"  fervor  and  impetus.  The  tide  wiU  run  out,  and  you  will 
be  left.  The  golden  opportunity  should  never  be  neglected  for  an 
horn"  Go  thou  with  them  if  they  will  go  with  you,  but  go  without 
them  if  they  will  not.  For  of  all  voices  there  is  none  that  ought  to  sound 
in  yom*  ear  with  such  authority  of  love  as  the  Voice  that  calls  you. 
It  is  the  voice  of  the  Bridegroom.  Let  not  the  Spuit  of  God  plead  in 
vain  with  any  man's  reason,  or  conscience,  or  sense  of  manhood  to- 
night. Count  not  yom'selves  unworthy  to  be  called.  Cast  not  these 
things  behind  you. 

Above  all  things,  if  you  are  endeavoring  for  yom-aelf,  and  against 
social  entanglements,  to  rise  to  a  true  Chi-istian  life,  remember  that  you 
need,  and  thart  you  shall  have,  the  help  of  God.  It  is  a  lonely  way  that 
the  repentant  sinner  walks ;  yet  there  are  stars  behind  the  clouds  for 
him.  It  is  a  most  solitaiy  path  that  he  who  has  done  A\Tong  and  means 
to  do  right,  has  to  tread;  but  remember,  as  you  tread  it  in  all  the  pain 
of  solitude,  that  if  you  could  but  see  you  would  behold  the  form  of 
Another  walking  by  youi-  side.      There  is  One  that  says  to  you  in  tho 


194  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION. 

hour  of  yoxu"  discom-agement,  "I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake 
thee."  That  faithful  Chief,  that  loving  Chiist,  that  Shepherd,  who 
seeks  the  lost  sheejD,  and,  if  they  cannot  walk,  bears  them  in  his  arms  ; 
he  that  redeemed  yom-  soul  with  his  own  precious  blood,  and  seeks  to 
lift  you  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  plane — from  ignominy,  dishonor,  dis- 
grace and  death,  to  the  joy  of  his  ownership — ^he  will  never  leave  you 
nor  forsake  you. 

K  God  is  calling  any  man  to-night,  listen  to  him.  If  God  is  di-aw- 
ing  any  man  to  him  to-night,  do  not  hold  back.  Oh  !  my  fiiend,  what 
will  it  profit  you  if  you  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  your  own  soul  ? 
Oh !  generous  and  loving  natm-e,  snared  in  the  wrong,  but  now  repent- 
ing toward  the  right,  let  nothing  di'aw  you  back.  It  is  life  if  you  go 
forward,  and  death  if  you  go  back.  The  call  will  never  come  again  as 
it  has  come.  Forsake  father,  and  mother,  and  brother,  and  sister;  give 
up  all  friendship,  and  each  pleasure,  and  every  prospect.  One  single 
moment  m  the  forefront  of  that  all-rewarding  heaven,  where  Christ,  in 
the  gloiy  of  his  Father's  kmgdom,  and  God's  angel's  shall  meet  you, 
will  more  than  repay  you  for  that  which  you  suffer  here. 

\  c 


SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  RELIGION.  195 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  draw  near  to  thee,  thou  Heart  of  love,  in  whom  is  our  life  and  all  the  source  of 
our  joy.  Out  of  our  troubles  wo  come — out  of  temptations,  and  sorrows,  and  burdens, 
and  weariness,  and  doubts  and  despondency.  How  many  paths  lead  Lither  1  What  path 
is  there  that  brings  not  those  tliat  are  wise  to  thy  feet,  O  blessed  One  of  the  pierced  hand 
and  wounded  side  ?  And  who  that  has  ever  come  to  thee  m  real  need,  and  lifted  up  the 
heart,  and  cried  out,  does  not  desire  to  come  again  ?  It  is  the  memory  of  thy  gra- 
ciousness,  it  is  thy  tenderness,  which  to  us  is  more  than  a  mother's,  aud  more  than  a 
lover's,  that  brings  us  again  and  again.  Thou  invisible  Presence,  thou  mute  but  mighty 
Comforter,  unspeaking,  and  yet  of  blessed  converse,  how  hast  thou  turned  the  night  into 
day  to  us !  How  hast  thou  given  us  strength  for  weakness !  How  hast  thou  snatched 
victor)'  out  of  defeat !  How  hast  thou  given  us  exaltation  in  the  midst  of  temptation, 
and  lifted  us  above  our  adversaries,  aud  set  our  feet  in  strong  places,  and  put  a  song  of 
rejoicing  in  our  mouth!  Oh!  how  many  escaped  souls  are  hero  to-night,  that  could  lift 
up  voices  in  praising  thy  faithfulness  and  thy  tender  mercies  toward  them  !  How  many 
there  are  over  whom  the  waves  would  have  gone  if  it  had  not  been  for  thine  outstretch- 
ing hand !  How  many  were  foundered  when  thou  didst  come  to  them  walking  on  the 
wave!  O  thou  Saviour !  it  is  not  the  world  that  thou  hast  saved,  any  more  than  the 
hearts  of  individual  ones  before  thee.  How  many  can  say  that  thou  art  </t<;tV  Savior! 
How  many  souls,  at  the  mention  of  thy  name,  are  as  bells  struck,  and  full  of  sweet 
Bounds  that  utter  thy  praise  1  We  thank  thee  for  the  past.  We  look  hopefully  into  all 
that  way  where  thou  throwest  the  light  of  thy  great  love.  Thou  art  the  new  and  living 
way  of  God — not  the  way  of  our  reason,  nor  the  way  of  our  resolution,  nor  the  way  of 
our  strength,  nor  the  way  of  our  skill.  Thou  lendest  thyself  to  every  needy  soul.  Thy 
strength  and  wisdom  are  over  us  all,  as  ours  are  over  our  little  children.  In  thee  we  are 
saved  from  storms  without  and  temptations  within.  In  thee  we  are  made  victors  over 
the  flesh.  We  are  more  and  mightier  than  they  that  are  against  us.  We  can  set  our- 
selves against  the  full  flow  of  circumstances,  and  yet  maintain  ourselves — yea,  and  go 
forward  in  the  right.  Thou,  O  God,  dost  till  the  soul  with  present  joy,  and  all  prophecy 
of  coming  good;  and  thou  canst  do  easily  the  things  which  we  most  need  to  have  done, 
and  which  are  impossible  to  our  power. 

Now  we  commend  ourselves  again  to  thee,  O  blessed  Lover !  In  the  bosom  of  thy 
promises  we  nestle,  and  are  at  rest.  There  thou  dost  brood  us.  There  thou  dost  care 
for  us,  and  feed  us.  We  rejoice  in  this  paternity,  in  this  majesty  of  mercy,  in  this  end- 
lessness of  love,  in  all  this  wonderful  grace,  and  kindness,  and  sweetness,  aud  mercy; 
and  the  goodness  of  God  shall  lead  us  to  repentance.  Not  agaiust  thee,  O  blessed 
Savior !  will  we  let  our  hearts  run.  Not  against  thee  shall  audacious  sins  any  longer 
have  liberty.  We  desire  to-night,  in  a  covenant  of  love,  faithfully  to  be  kept,  to  yield 
ourselves  to  thee,  to  love  thee  and  serve  thee,  and  to  walk  in  those  ways  of  honor  and 
truth  where  thou  hast  planted  peace.  And  if  there  be  struggling  souls  that  desire  to  do 
this,  come,  O  Spirit  of  the  living  God !  to  their  rescue  to-night.  If  there  be  those  that 
are  looking  wistfully,  beckon  to  them,  and  say  to  them.  Come.  If  there  bo  those  that 
are  coming,  but  very  slowly,  and  with  very  doubtful  tread,  oh !  give  to  them,  we  beseech 
of  thee,  power  by  which  they  shall  be  able  to  do  all  things.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that 
thou  wilt  rescue  any  that  are  imperiled,  and  deliver  those  that  are  ensnared,  if  not  for 
their  sake,  yet  for  thine  own.  For  thine  own  name's  sake,  do  works  of  mercy  and  of 
wonder  in  our  midst.  Turn  back  those  that  have  gone  away.  Reclaim  the  backsliding. 
Save  even  those  that  have  given  up  their  faith,  and  their  love,  and  their  service.  Deliver 
those  that  are  bond-slaves  unto  sin.  Go  down  again  into  the  very  shadow  of  death, 
thou  all-seeking  Savior,  to  release  the  captive,  to  open  the  doors  of  despair,  and  to  bring 
up  from  the  borders  of  the  dreary  land  those  that  without  thee  are  hopelessly  lost. 

And  so,  wo  beseech  of  thee  that  this  place  may  be  filled  with  the  signs  of  rejoicing 
of  those  captives  who  have  been  rescued  and  brought  home.  And  may  thy  name  bo 
honored  in  the  midst  of  thy  churches,  and  thy  glory  shine  in  all  the  land.  Spread  rovi 
vals  from  church  to  church.    Give  to  thy  ministering  servants  more  power,  and  to  thy 


19(3  SOCIAL  OBSTACLES  TO  BELIGION. 

trutti  more  effect.  And  may  we  hear  on  every  Bide  of  the  growth  of  thy  kingdom.  And 
wo  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  thy  kingdom  may  come  in  all  the  world,  and  thy  will 
be  done  on  earth  as  in  heaven.  And  to  the  Father,  Son  and  Spirit  shall  be  praises  ever- 
lasting.   Amen, 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  spoken  to-night,  to 
ri^oedy  souls.  Quicken  some  that  are  dying.  Quicken  some  that  are  dead,  and  bring 
them  to  life  again.  Draw  toward  thyself  the  ensnared.  Open  the  prison  doors.  Break 
the  cord.  Destroy  thou  the  chain  and  the  shackle.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt 
breathe  a  pure  air  upon  the  fetid  and  poisonous  atmosphere  in  which  many  breathe. 
Disenchant  those  that  live  in  a  sorcery  of  the  soul.  Oh !  that  thou  wou'dst  deliver  those 
that  are  bound.  Come  thou  again  to  seek  and  to  save.  May  wo  hear  the  joyful  testi- 
mony, may  wo  hear  the  songs  of  release  of  those  who  are  going  home  from  captivity. 
Gloriiy  thyself,  and  quicken  us,  and  stir  us  up  to  take  part  in  this  glorious  work  of  the 
Lord.  Build  up  thy  church.  Comfort  thy  people  everywhere.  Advance  thy  banner  in 
all  the  earth.  And  at  last  may  every  land,  and  every  nation,  and  all  peoples,  see  thy 
salvation.    Wo  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


XIII. 

Christ  the  Deliverer. 


INVOCATION. 

Because  thou  art  lifted  up  above  care  and  trouble,  such  as  befalls  us,  we 
draw  near  to  thee,  thou  that  art  eternal  in  power  and  wisdom,  and  infinite 
in  goodness,  past  all  understanding.  Deliver  us  out  of  our  trouble,  from 
temptation,  from  sin,  from  death ;  and  grant  unto  us  that  living  power  by 
which  all  that  is  good  in  us  shall  awaken  and  recognize  thee,  that  our 
hearts  may  say,  to-day,  Father,  and  that  we  may  draw  near  to  thee  in  the 
full  assurance  of  faith.  Baptize  us  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  Make  thy  word 
shine  as  the  morning  on  the  mountains.  Give  us  communion  with  thee  in 
prayer.  Give  us  fellowship  in  praise.  And  may  we  rejoice  one  with  an- 
other as  we  sing  forth  thy  goodness.  And  may  the  services  of  instruction, 
may  the  exercises  of  meditation,  may  all  our  offerings  of  devotion  please 
thee.    We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


^ 


CHEIST,  THE  DELIYEEER. 


"  O  wrotohcd  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this   death  ?    I  thank 
trod,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."— Rom.  vii.  24,  25. 


When  one  has  wandered  a  night  and  a  day  in  the  wilderness,  is  dis- 
couraged, is  on  the  point  of  giying  up  the  struggle  for  rescue,  and  he 
sees,  suddenly,  the  gleam  of  a  light — he  knows  that  the  road  is  near, 
and  a  dwelling  house.  He  exclaims,  "  Thank  God !  I  am  saved."  And 
yet,  he  does  not  stop  to  point  out  all  the  particulars  which  led  to  that 
exclamation. 

In  this  wise  I  interpret  this  abrupt  note  of  victory.  It  is  not  a  state- 
ment so  much  as  a  ciy  of  joy ;  not  an  explanation,  but  a  triumph.  Fur- 
ther on,  Paul  reasons  ;  but  here  he  exults.  God  in  Jesus  Christ  is  the 
consummation  of  that  profound  mystery  of  hwman  life,  which  all  men  in 
all  ages  have  observed. 

Rising  above  all  competitors,  we  find  man  standing  at  the  head 
of  earthly  tribes  by  his  complexity ;  by  his  power  in  variety  and  har- 
mony. He  is  not  so  strong,  to  be  sure,  as  the  lion  ;  and  yet  he  can 
exert  gi-eater  physical  power,  because  he  has  the  control  of  all  nature. 
He  is  not  so  swift  as  the  deer  ;  and  yet  he  can  produce  and  control  a 
speed  far  beyond  his.  He  is  not  so  patient  and  enduring  as  the  ox, 
nor  so  sharp-eyed  as  the  eagle.  In  any  single  physical  quality  man 
finds  some  superior  in  the  races  of  animals  ;  and  yet,  in  every  such  in- 
stance, that  which  is  lacking  in  special  organ  and  function  is  made  up 
in  the  final  results  which  are  wrought,  even  in  material  things,  by  his 
reason — ^by  his  control  of  natural  law.  To  man  only  is  it  given  to 
clothe  himself  with  all  the  powers  of  creation.  The  sun  is  his  minister. 
The  winds  and  the  waters  are  his  servants.  The  earth,  as  a  granary  in 
which  ages  have  stored  up  treasm-es,  opens  to  his  key.  While  he  is, 
in  special  organs,  inferior  to  one  and  another  of  the  animals,  he  is  col- 
ectively,  and  by  his  relations,  through  reason,  wdth  natm-e,  by  far  the 
superior  of  every  one,  and  reaches,  through  his  faculties,  a  preeminence 
in  those  very  respects  in  which  he  falls  below  the  animals  in  single 

Sunday  Mobndjg,  Dec.  5,  1869.    Lesson  :  Eon.  vii.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection)  Nos. 
199,  243,  268.  ^ 


198  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

organs.  And  yet,  large  as  he  is,  transcending  every  other  creature 
that  we  know  of,  man  is  not  happy — not  in  any  proportion  to  his 
natui-e,  and  to  the  hints  and  foregleams  which  that  nature  gives.  The 
history  of  the  race  is  a  sad  one.  Man  knows  more  of  everything  else 
than  of  himself  He  can  manage  the.  physical  globe  far  better  than  he 
can  his  own  body. 

The  fii-st  grand  fact,  then,  that  meets  the  student,  is  the  system 
of  elaborate  physical  forces  given  to  man  as  a  creature  living  upon 
the  material  globe.  He  has,  in  being  clothed  with  flesh,  all  the  points 
of  contact  with  the  physical  world  that  the  ox  or  the  falcon  has.  He 
is  born  ;  in  his  eai-ly  days  he  feeds  like  a  plant ;  he  grows  up  with  all 
the  instincts  and  passions  of  animal  life.  Without  such  passions  and 
such  appetites  he  could  not  maintain  his  foothold  upon  the  earth.  All 
the  very  passions  against  which  we  strive  through  life  are  admu-able, 
and  divinely  created.  No  account  can  be  given  of  the  divine  wisdom 
and  benevolence  in  the  construction  of  men,  which  leaves  out  those 
very  propensities  which  are  continually  destroying  our  peace,  and 
against  which  we  arm  our  vktue.  The  reason  of  their  mischief  lies 
in  theu"  relative  power,  or  in  theu-  predominance  over  other  elements 
of  our  being. 

For,  now,  the  next  grand  fact  which  we  observe,  is  the  existence  of 
supra-animal  elements  also  in  man.  He  is  not  an  animal  alone  and 
only.  He  is  a  creature  of  aiFections,  which,  in  variety,  compass  and 
force,  leave  the  lower  creation  in  a  vivid  contrast.  He  is  a  creature 
endowed  with  a  reason  of  many  parts,  and  with  an  imagination  which 
recreates  in  beauty  w^hatever  it  looks  upon.  He  is  a  creature  of  moral 
sentiment  and  of  spmtual  life — that  is,  a  life  which  deals  with  invisible 
qualities  and  supra-sensuous  realities. 

These  additions  to  man's  physical  economy  are  distinctive  and  pre- 
eminent. In  them  lies  the  value  of  human  life.  Not  in  the  things  in 
which  he  agrees  with  the  animal  is  man  precious,  but  in  those  things 
■vfhich  grow  up  after  that,  and  rise  above  it — his  affections,  his  senti- 
ments, his  will,  his  reason. 

The  next  fact  which  we  obsei-ve  is,  that  men  ha\'e  learned  but  very 
imperfectly,  and  as  a  race  have  not  at  all  learned,  how  to  carry  them- 
selves so  that  every  part  of  their  nature  shall  have  fair  play.  Regard- 
ing man  as  a  race,  the  animal  propensities  and  the  i^assions  are  always 
predominent.  Looking  at  the  world  collectively,  the  force  of  hupian 
life  is  at  the  base.  The  energy,  the  continuity,  the  prodigious  facil- 
ity of  the  appetites  and  the  passions  carries  them  beyond  then*  true 
animal  function,  and  makes  them  a  disturbing  and  antagonistic  force 
among  the  gentler  and  nobler  faculties  of  the  human  soul. 

Here,  then,  begins  the  conflict  that  is  waged  with  some  degree  of 


CHRIST,  TEE  BELIVEEEB.  199 

power,  I  hope,  in  all,  between  man's  phy8ical  life,  as  represented  by  his 
appetites  and  passions,  and  his  moral  life,  including  his  social  aifections 
and  his  moral  and  spiritual  part.  This  is  the  strife  which  has  been 
going  on  in  some  degi'ee  in  better  natm-es  since  the  world  began — the 
strife  of  gentleness,  and  of  purity,  and  of  joy,  and  of  peace,  and  of 
faith,  against  selfishness,  and  pride,  and  appetites  of  various  kinds. 

To  all  souls  that  have  been  raised  to  then*  true  life,  and  that  begin 
to  bring  forth  a  manhood  of  moral  qualities,  the  struggle  has  been 
always  severe,  continued,  and  often  piteous  in  the  extreme.  A  man 
who  can  read  the  serenth  of  Romans,  which  I  read  in  your  hearing 
this  morning,  without  a  sigh,  or  a  tear,  or  any  sign  or  thought  that  it 
represents  any  part  of  his  experience,  must  be  veiy  high  or  very  low 
in  human  life.  To  have  the  power  over  om-  whole  organization  with- 
out a  despotism  of  om*  animal  and  selfish  nature — this  is  the  very  j^rob- 
lem  of  practical  life.  How  can  I  maintain  the  fulness  of  every  j^art, 
and  yet  have  harmony  and  relative  subordination,  so  that  the  appetites 
shall  serve  the  body,  and  the  affections  not  be  darkened  nor  di-agged 
down  by  the  appetites ;  so  that  the  moral  sentiments  and  the  reason 
shall  shine  clear  and  beautiful  ?  This  is  that  which  every  man  proposes 
to  himself,  in  some  dark  and  obscure  way. 

There  is  a  thi'ead  running  through  all  ages,  connecting  men  of  all 
races,  appearing  in  all  religions,  in  all  philosophies,  and  in  the  experi- 
ence of  single  men  reared  in  the  most  diverse  views.  It  marks  the 
line  of  conflict  between  the  body  and  the  soul.  The  world  has  not 
been  able  to  harmonize  nature  witliin  man,  to  keep  each  part  in  its 
place,  and  to  keep  down  the  animal  force  from  insurrection  and  despo- 
tism. And  there  is  one  long  plaint  and  wail  coming  up  from  the  hearts 
of  good  men  from  the  beginning  of  history — Tlie  whole  creation 
groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  until  noto. 

This  being  the  philosophy,  or  rather  statement  of  facts  in  regard  to 
to  the  causes  of  that  distm-bance  and  perpetual  conflict  which  is  going 
on,  what  remedies  have  been  proposed  and  suggested  ? 

To  give  way,  in  the  first  place,  to  that  which  is  strongest,  and  to  live 
for  animal  joy,  has  been  one  special  method  of  settling  the  conflict. 
Kill  the  higher  feelings,  let  them  die,  and  then  let  the  lower  ones  romp 
and  riot  like  animals  in  a  field — this  gives  a  brilliant  opening  to  life,  if  a 
man  feels  that  he  may  give  a  loose  rein  to  his  animal  passions  ;  but  it 
gives  a  dismal  close  to  it.  It  may  make  youth  sparkle,  but  it  will  make 
old  age  dreary.  For  what  is  more  hideous  than  a  sullen  old  man  burnt 
out  Avith  evil  ? 

When  I  see  men  suppressing  all  qualms,  ridding  themselves  of  all 
struggles,  and  with  joyous  health,  Avith  alacrity  and  alertness,  with  gaiety, 
and  with  spai-kle,  going  into  the  full  enjoyment  of  sensuous  life,  I  think 


200  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

of  a  party  entering  the  Mammoth  Cave  with  candles  enough,  if  spar- 
ingly used,  to  carry  them  forward  and  bring  them  back,  but  setting 
them  all  on  fire  at  once,  not  heeding  the  warning  of  the  guide,  dancing 
and  wandering  on  till  they  are  many  and  many  a  mUe  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Cave,  when  one  light  after  another  begins  to  flicker,  and  bm-n 
low,  and  go  out.  Now,  alarmed,  they  with  haste  .tm-n  back.  One 
candle  burns  out,  and  then  another.  A  dim  twilight  begins  to  surround 
them ;  and  then  darkness  comes  on.  Yet  they  are  mUes  from  the  exit. 
They  grope  about  with  outcries  to  each  other.  Some,  wandering  wide, 
plunge  down  chasms.     Some  give  uj),  and  lie  down  in  despair. 

The  world  is  a  cave.  They  that  bm-n  out  all  theu*  powers  and  pas- 
sions in  the  beginning  of  life,  when  youth  enjoys,  at  last  wander  in 
great  darkness,  far  fi-om  the  exit,  and  lie  down,  one  here  and  another 
there,  to  mourn  and  die.  And  the  best  prescription  that  men  of  pleasure 
have  been  able  to  give  to  cm-e  this  conflict  between  the  animal  and  the 
divine  in  man,  is,  JEat,  drink,  for  to-morrow  ye  die  ! 

Another  remedy  has  been  in  suj)erstition.  Men  have  sought  to 
cover  this  conflict,  rather  than  to  heal  it.  This  is  the  way  of  supersti- 
tion. It  deprecates  results.  It  does  not  know  how  to  change  causes. 
It  persuades  men  that  by  some  superficial  ofierings,  by.  some  attain- 
ments, by  some  sacrifices  of  one  kind  or  another,  by  some  placation  of 
the  gods,  a  man's  conflicts  resulting  from  sin  shall  all  be  set  right.  Su- 
perstition neither  mends  nor  strengthens  what  is  good,  nor  weaken  s- 
what  is  harmful,  nor  brings  real  ]Deace,  though  it  may  banish  sharp 
alarm. 

Others  have  compromised.  They  have  lowered  the  demands  of 
moral  sense.  They  have  yielded,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  to  their 
selfish  nature.  They  have  sought  to  bring  down  the  top,  and  to  bring 
up  the  bottom.  Morality  is  usually  the  name  which  is  given  to  this 
compromise.  Not  that  morality  is  a  thing  to  be  desj)ised,  and  injuri- 
rious ;  but  simple  morality,  which  is  an  average  of  man's  conduct  with 
the  customs  and  laws  of  the  time  in  which  he  lives,  is  an  empirical 
remedy,  and  comes  nowhere  near  touching  that  radical  and  fundament- 
al conflict  which  there  is  between  the  body  and  the  soul — the  flesh 
and  the  spirit. 

Then  comes  philosophy,  and  deals  with  it  in  two  ways.  It  pro- 
pounds to  men  maxims  and  wise  rules.  It  expounds  the  benefit  of 
good  conduct,  and  the  evils  of  bad  conduct.  And  then  it  proposes 
certain  rules  of  doing  what  we  cannot  help,  and  of  suflTermg  what 
we  cannot  throw  off.  And  it  is  all  very  well.  So  is  rose-water  very 
good,  and  cologne  water,  where  a  man  is  wounded  unto  death.  They 
are  not  less  fragrant  because  they  are  not  remedial ;  but  if  they  be  re- 
garded as  remedies,  how  poor  are  they !      And  philosophy  is  good  ; 


CHRIST,  THE  DELIVEBEB.  20 1 

but  it  is  not  good  to  cui*e  that  fundamental  conflict  that  is  waged  in 
every  man's  nature. 

Tlien  comes  scientific  empiricism,  and  prescribes  diet,  and  exercise, 
and  regubirity,  and  the  observance  of  natural  laws,  and  proper  occupa- 
tions ;  all  of  which  are  good  and  excellent,  and  all  of  which  ought 
to  follow  in  the  train  of  piety.  Much  good  is  there  in  these  pre- 
scriptions, as  collaterals  and  auxiliaries ;  but  how  many  men  in  life 
know  these  laws  ?  How  many  men  are  so  placed  that  if  they  did  know 
them,  they  would  be  able  to  use  them  ?  Whose  rising  in  the  morning 
is  at  his  own  control  %  Nine  parts  in  ten  of  men  are  controlled  in 
their  outgoing  and  incoming  by  the  inexorable  law  of  business.  Other 
men's  interests,  or  your  pockets,  determine  what  you  shall  eat  and  what 
you  shall  drink.  Not  they  alone  most  need  these  things  who  live  in 
comfort,  but  the  myriad  poor.  And  to  the  masses  of  mankind  what 
has  2)hilosophy  to  say  ?  And  if  it  says  anything,  how  many  of  them 
are  able  to  know  what  is  wise  or  just  ?  And  if  they  know  it,  how 
many  have  power  to  hold  themselves  to  what  they  do  know  ?  If  there 
is  no  remedy  for  mankind  but  what  j)hilosophy  brings,  there  is  none. 
You  might  as  well  take  a  babe  of  days,  and  place  a  medicine  chest  be- 
fore it,  and  say,  "  Rise,  and  select  the  right  medicine,  and  you  shall 
live,"  as  to  j^lace  philosophy  before  the  masses  of  men,  and  tell  them  to 
appropriate  it.     It  is  mockery. 

What,  then,  is  the  final  remedy?  What  does  Christianity  offer  in 
this  case  ?  Here  is  this  multiform  creature,  man,  built  on  a  common 
basis,  with  human  appetites  and  passions,  whose  misery  comes  from 
that  fundamental  strife  which  is  always  going  on  between  the  body  and 
the  soul,  which  are  at  odds  and  oppositions,  and  will  not  be  reconciled 
to  each  other. 

And  what  does  Christianity  undertake  to  do  ?  It  undertakes  to 
bring  to  man  a  higher  power  than  his  own,  and  apply  it  on  that  side 
of  his  mind  where  it  seems  beneficial.  It  undertakes  to  so  bring  God 
du-ectly  and  personally  within  the  reach  of  every  being  in  the  world, 
that  he  shall  exert  a  controlling  power  on  the  spuitual  and  intellectual 
realms  of  man's  nature,  and,  by  giving  power  to  it,  overbalance  and 
overbear  the  despotism  of  the  radical  passions  and  appetites. 

Or,  more  distinctly,  there  is  made  a  representation  of  God  in  Christ 
which  brings  him  within  the  line  of  the  ordinary  understanding.  That' 
very  thing  which  many  men  seem  to  despise  and  shred  off,  I  cUng  to,  in 
the  revelation  of  Christ's  divinity.  Many  say  that  the  idea  of  God,  the 
Supreme,  the  Infinite,  the  Ineffiible,  being  reduced  to  the  compass  of 
the  flesh,  sleeping,  being  weary,  and  wearing  the  infirmities  of  the  hu- 
man body,  is  inconsistent  with  the  true  conception  of  God.  Yes,  it  w 
inconsistent  with  the  God  of  a  poem,  or  a  philosophy      But  for  a  man 


202  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

that  is  crushed,  for  a  man  that  is  dying  for  want  of  help,  the  idea  of  a 
God  that  is  willing  to  come  down  to  him,  and  take  his  likeness,  and 
put  himself  in  his  place  that  he  may  rescue  him,  is  blessed. 

Who  are  they  that  men  most  esteem  as  manly  ?  There  is  a  story 
of  a  missionary — a  Moravian — who  was  sent  out  to  the  West  Indian 
Islands  to  preach  the  Gosj)el  to  the  slaves ;  but  he  found  that  they  were 
diiven  so  hard,  that  they  went  forth  so  early,  and  came  back  so 
late,  and  were  so  spent,  that  they  could  not  hear.  At  night  they 
came  from  then*  toil  to  gnaw  their  crust,  and  roll  in  on  then*  straw,  and 
snore  thi'ough  their  brief  hours  of  repose ;  and  the  bell  and  the  whip 
brought  them  out  again  by  light  in  the  morning,  to  go  to  the  field ;  and 
he  saw  that  he  could  not  reach  them.  He  was  a  white  man,  and  they 
were  black.  It  was  the  white  man  that  oppressed  them.  There  was 
nobody  to  preach  to  them  unless  he  could  accompany  them  in  their 
labor.  So  he  w  ent  and  sold  himself  to  then-  master,  who  put  him  in  the 
gang  with  them.  For  the  privilege  of  going  out  with  these  slaves,  and 
making  them  feel  that  he  loved  them,  and  would  benefit  them,  he 
worked  with  them,  and  suffered  with  them ;  and  while  they  worked,  he 
taught ;  and  as  they  came  back,  he  taught ;  and  he  won  their  ear ;  and 
the  grace  of  God  sprang  up  in  many  of  these  darkened  hearts.  He 
bowed  himself  to  then-  condition,  and  took  upon  him  their  bondage,  in 
order  that  he  might  show  his  sympathy  and  love  for  them. 

Tell  me,  is  not  that  the  veiy  epitome  of  what  Christ  did,  who,  in 
order  that  he  might  reach  the  poor  and  needy,  and  bring  the  power  of 
the  truth  to  bear  on  then-  understandings,  and  mitigate  their  sufferings, 
and  rescue  them,  and  empower  theh  moral  nature  against  then-  animal 
nature,  "took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the 
likeness  of  men ;  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  mian,  humbled  him- 
self, and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross "  % 
That  is  the  stoiy  over  again  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  story  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  God  manifest  in  the  flesh. 

Now,  if  you  are  searching  for  a  God  that  shall  be  radiant  in  heaven, 
where  eveiybody  is  happy,  and  everything  is  symmetric  and  ideally 
perfect,  take  you  the  God  of  yom*  conception,  and  go  live  among  my 
fellow  men,  and  see  then-  tears,  and  heai*  then-  groans.  It  is  for  me 
to  look  at  men's  straggles.  It  is  for  me  to  see  men  that  are  dropping 
down  as  men  slide  down  a  cliff,  clutching  at  what  shall  hold  them  up. 
It  is  for  me  to  hsten  to  men  that  are  in  prison,  to  the  sick,  and  to  the 
dying.  It  is  for  me  to  say,  "  Where  is  there  help  for  those  who  are  in 
miseiy,  and  whose  struggle  is  going  the  wrong  way?  And  I  be- 
hold the  Lord  Jesus  Clirist  standing  in  the  midst  of  men,  and  saying, 
"Come  unto  me.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you.  My  yoke  is  easy  and  my 
bm-den  is  light     Ye  shall  find  rest  for  your  souls."     God  saving  men 


CUBIST,  THE  DELIVERER.  203 

can  never  be  defined  in  any  other  way  than  by  saying  "Christ !"  This 
representation  of  God  as  a  patient  Teacher,  a  personal  Friend,  and  the 
Mediator  of  sin,  supremely  good  and  beautiful  in  himself,  and  in  instant 
and  inten.oe  sympathy  with  every  soul  that  will  open  to  him,  is  the 
representation  which  we  need  for  our  soul's  distress.  An  order  and  an 
economy  by  which  this  whole  power  of  God  shall  be  brought  within 
the  conditions  of  our  understanding,  may  be  personally  and  perpetually 
ours.  That  by  which  the  gi-eatness  of  God's  nature  acts  upon  our 
spiritual  nature,  and  gives  it  tone  and  power,  is,  on  the  last  analysis,  it 
seems  to  rae,  the  philosophy  of  the  action  upon  the  soul  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.     It  is  God  made  personal  to  you  and  me. 

Do  not  you  know  how  many  things  you  ean  do  under  personal  in- 
fluence that  you  cannot  m  any  other  way  ?  My  father  said  to  me, 
when  I  was  a  little  boy,  "  Henry,  take  these  letters  and  go  down  to  the 
Post-Office  with  them."  I  was  a  brave  boy ;  and  yet  I  had  imagination. 
And  thousands  of  people  are  not  as  cowardly  as  you  think.  Persons 
with  quick  imaginations,  and  quiok  sensibility,  people  the  heavens  and 
the  earth,  so  that  there  are  a  thousand  things  in  them  that  harder  men 
do  not  think  of  and  understand.  I  saw  behind  eveiy  thicket  some 
shadowy  form ;  and  I  heard  trees  say  strange  and  weu'd  things  ;  and  in 
the  dark  concave  above  I  could  hear  flitting  spuits.  All  the  heaven 
was  populous  to  me,  and  the  earth  was  full  of  I  know  not  what  strange 
sights.  These  things  wrought  my  system  to  a  wonderful  tension.  When 
I  went  pit^a-pat  along  the  road  in  the  dark,  I  was  brave  enough ;  and  if  it 
had  been  anything  that  I  could  have  seen,  if  it  had  been  anything  that  I 
could  have  fought,  it  would  have  given  me  great  relief;  but  it  ^\tis  not. 
It  was  only  a  vague,  outlying  fear.  I  knew  not  what  it  w«s.  When 
father  said  to  me,  "  Go,"  I  went — for  I  was  obedient.  I  took  my  old 
felt  hat,  and  stepped  out  of  the  door ;  and  Charles  Smith  (a  great  thick- 
lipped  black  man,  who  worked  on  the  farm,  and  who  was  always  doing 
kind  things)  said  to  me,  "Look  here,  I  will  go  with  you."  Oh!  sweeter 
music  never  came  out  of  any  instrument  than  that.  The  heaven  was 
just  Jts  full,  and  the  earth  was  just  as  full  as  before  ;  but  now  I  had 
somebody  to  go  with  me.  It  was  not  that  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  fight  for  me.  I  did  not  think  there  was  going  to  be  any  need  of 
fighting,  but  I  had  somebody  to  lean  on  ;  somebody  to  cai'e  for  me  ; 
somebody  to  help  and  succor  me.  Let  anything  be  done  by  direction, 
et  anythmg  be  done  by  thought  or  rule,  and  how  difierent  it  is  from 
its  being  done  by  personal  inspiration  ! 

"Ah  !  are  the  Zebedees,  then,  so  poor  ?  John,  take  a  quarter  of  beef 
and  cany  it  down,  with  my  compliments.  No,  stop ;  fill  up  that 
chest,  put  in  those  cordials,  lay  them  on  the  cart,  and  bring  it  round, 
and  I  will  drive  down  mysellV     Down  I  go  ;  and  on  entering  the 


204  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

kouse  I  hold  out  both  hands,  and  say,  "Why,  my  old  friend,  I  am  glad 
I  found  you  out.  I  understand  the  world  has  gone  hard  with  you.  I 
came  down  to  say  that  there  is  notliing  between  you  and  me.  We  are 
on  good  terms,  just  as  we  always  were.  You  have  one  friend,  at  any 
rate.  Now  do  not  be  discouraged ;  keep  up  a  good  heart.  I  have 
brought  you  down  a  few  articles  for  your  comfort."  And  I  empty  all 
the  things,  and  I  see  teai'S  beating  in  his  eyes,  like  rain  on  a  pane 
of  glass  in  summer  _:  and  I  go  away  as  soon  as  I  can — for,  hard  as  in- 
gratitude is  to  bear,  it  is  not  so  hard  to  beai'  as  gratitude.  And  when 
I  am  gone,  the  man  wipes  his  eyes,  and  says,  "  I  did  not  know  where 
I  should  feed  my  children,  and  I  am  thankful  for  the  meat  and  the 
other  things ;  but  God  knows  that  that  man's  shaking  my  hands 
gave  me  more  joy  than  all  that  he  brought.  It  was  hiTn  that  I 
wanted."  I  tell  you,  when  men  are  in  trouble,  it  is  the  human  soul 
that  cures  and  feeds.     It  is  one  soul  lying  against  another. 

This  was  epitomized  by  the  old  prophet,  when  he  went  into  the 
house  where  the  widow's  son  lay  as  one  dead,  and  put  his  hands  on  the 
child's  hands,  and  stretched  himself  across  the  child's  body,  and  the 
spirit  of  life  came  back.  Oh !  if,  when  men  are  in  trouble,  there  were 
some  man  to  measure  his  whole  stature  against  them,  and  give  them 
the  warmth  of  his  sympathy,  how  many  would  be  saved  ! 

Now,  it  is  just  that  which  God  in  Christ  Jesus  does.  He  comes 
down  to  this  world,  and  says,  "  You  are  all  in  this  mortal  conflict. 
You  have  all  sinned,  and  are  sinning.  And  you  do  not  know  the  way 
by  which  you  can  get  back.  But  I  have  found  it."  What  is  the 
way  ?  "  -7^  your  loving  God,  I,  your  atoning  Saviour,  am  that  way. 
Love  me,  and  let  me  walk  with  you  all  the  time,  and  I  will  see  that 
you  have  a  perpetual  consciousness  of  such  a  power  as  will  give  advan- 
tage to  the  upper  side,  and  not  to  the  lower  side  any  more."  That  is 
the  philosophy  of  salvation  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — a  great 
soul  come  down  to  take  care  of  little  souls  ;  a  great  heart  beating  ita 
warm  blood  into  our  little  pinched  hearts,  that  do  not  know  how  to  get 
blood  enough  for  themselves  ;  a  great  natm-e,  with  the  experience  of 
ages,  and  with  the  infinite  love  of  the  effulging  God,  that  comes  down 
and  says  to  every  poor  crealtm-e,  "My  arms  are  open.  Come.  Can- 
not you  walk  ?  Let  me  take  you  up  by  my  own  strength,  and  I  will 
carry  you.     Love  me,  and  let  me  love  you,  and  I  will  save  you." 

That  is  Christ  loving  the  human  soul.  Tell  me  if  there  is  any  bet- 
ter way  than  that.  Tell  me  if  that  is  not  the  very  way  that  philosophy 
has  found  out.  It  is  this  sympathy  with  men,  and  this  willingness  to 
suffer  for  them,  and  bear  then-  burdens,  and  carry  then-  sins,  that 
cleanses  a  man's  soul.  It  is  the  impact  on  him  of  God's  nature,  it  is 
the  opening  of  the  sou:  of  God,  so  ^at  the  divine  influence  flows  right 


CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER.  205 

m  ou  laiin.     It  is  tiiis  that  gives  my  upper  natiu-e  strength,  ar.d  ho]>e, 
and  elasticity,  and  victoiy. 

With  this  exposition,  let  me  make  a  few  points  of  application. 

1.  You  understand  what  I  mean  when  I  speak  of  tlie  depramty  of 
man.  There  has  been  so  much  mistake,  and  so  much  controversy, 
about  it,  that  I  seldom  use  that  term.  Xot  that  I  do  not  believe  that 
to  be  true  Mhich  Avise  men  have  thought  who  have  hitherto  used  it ; 
but  I  tliink  it  to  be  infeHcitous,  and  therefore  choose  to  speak  of  men's 
sinfulness  rather  than  then-  depravity.  I  am  inclined  to  let  the  old 
war  terms  die  out,  and  take  the  new  and  better  ones. 

What,  then,  is  a  man's  depravity  ?  When  you  say  that  an  army  is 
destroyed,  wdiat  do  you  mean  ?  Not  that  everybody  in  it  is  killed ; 
but  that,  as  an  army,  its  complex  organization  is  broken  up  and  scat- 
tered. When  I  say  that  an  organ  is  utterly  spoiled,  what  do  I  mean  ? 
What  would  spoil  an  orchestra?  Cutting  off  every  man's  head,  or 
"smashing  every  one  of  the  instruments  ?  Yes,  that  would  do  it.  But  it 
can  be  done  a  great  deal  easier  than  that.  Put  every  single  instrument 
at  discord  with  its  fellows,  and  is  not  the  orchestra  spoiled  as  effectual- 
ly as  it  can  be  ?  What  spoils  a  watch  ?  Do  you  need  to  put  it  on  a 
stone  and  grind  it  to  powder,  in  order  to  spoil  it  ?  Take  out  the  main- 
spring. "  Well,"  says  a  man,  "  The  maicsj^ring  is  gone  to  be  sure  ; 
but  it  is  not  all  spoUed.  It  is  good  as  fai-  as  it  goes,  is  it  not  ?"  How 
far  does  a  watch  go  that  has  no  mainspring "?  "  Well,  the  pointers  are 
not  useless."  Perhaps  not  for  another  watch  ;  but  what  are  they  good 
for  in  a  watch  that  has  no  mainspring  ?  "  There  ai'e  a  great  many  wheels 
in«ide  that  are  not  injured."  Yes,  but  what  are  wheels  worth  in  a 
watch  that  has  no  mains^jring  ?  A  watch  is  an  organized  thing,  which 
i-equii'es  for  its  value  that  every  part  should  be  in  perfect  harmony  with 
eveiy  other  part.  If  anything  happens  to  it  which  prevents  all  the 
parts  working  together  harmoniously,  it  is  sjDoiled.  What  s]joils  a 
compass  ?  Anything  which  unfits  it  for  doing  what  it  was  intended  to 
do.  Do  you  say,  "  It  is  good  to  make  some  other  useful  thing  of?" 
That  may  be  ;  but  is  it  good  for  anything  as  a  compass  ? 

Now,  here  is  this  complex  organization,  the  body,  with  its  various 
appetites.  This  body  has  grafted  upon  it  the  bud  and  blossom  of 
the  social  affections.  Still  higher  branches  open  out,  of  spiritual  senti- 
ments, that  take  hold  of  the  invisible,  the  ineffable  and  the  divine. 
Here  is  reason.  Here  is  faith  actuig  through  the  imagination.  And 
these  royalties  of  the  soul  are  all  mixed  up.  Where  conscience  ought 
to  be,  is  pride.  Where  love  ought  to  be,  is  selfishness.  Where  there 
ought  to  be  the  sweet  blossoms  of  the  higher  sentiments,  there  are  the 
gnawing  insects  and  coiling  serpents  of  the  passions.  And  the  soul  is 
all  «,ti:rrd  i^       J-t'6  sympathy  and  harmony  are  gone.     And  is  it  not 


206  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVEREB. 

ruined  ?  It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  should  be  all  bad  to  be  ruLued. 
No  man  is  bad  in  everything.  Thank  God,  all  men  are  restrained  in  var 
rious  ways,  and  eveiy  man  has  some  vutues  and  excellences.  There  are 
few  men  who  have  not  some  truth,  some  love,  and  certain  elements  of 
faith.  But  how  many  men  are  there  who  have  a  hai-monious  inwai'd 
bekig?  A  man's  moral  sentiments  ought  to  be  strongest  and  highest, 
his  social  affections  ought  to  be  intermediate,  and  his  animal  passions 
ought  to  be  subordinate  and  entirely  obedient.  If  they  are  so,  he  has 
a  beautifully  organized  and  harmonious  being.  But  how  few  there  aj'e 
that  come  anywhere  near  these  conditions  of  organization  ! 

Man  is  depraved.  He  has  lost  that  harmony  which  belongs  to  a 
perfect  organization.  And  so  he  lives  to  struggle.  And  the  struggle 
through  which  he  is  passing  is  the  cause  of  human  woe,  and  sorrow. 
It  is  that  which  has  di-enched  this  world  in  tears,  and  rolled  it  in  blood, 
and  darkened  the  heavens,  and  made  the  history  of  the  past  hideous, 
and  the  prospect  of  the  futm-e  gloomy. 

2.  We  see,  based  upon  the  doctrine  of  man's  sinfulness  in  his  um"e- 
generate  state,  why  it  is  that  the  divinity  of  Christ  becomes  so  impor- 
tant in  the  development  of  a  truly  Chiistian  life.  It  is  said  that  there 
ai'e  many  persons  who  do  not  believe  in  the  divinity  of  Christ,  but  who 
nevertheless  are  living  Christian  lives.  Yes,  it  is  true,  in  Christian 
communities,  but  not  out  of  them.  In  Christian  communities  there 
are  so  many  churches,  and  so  many  thousands  of  men  who  do  beheve 
in  the  divinity  of  Christ,  that  they  thi'ow  around  about  them  a  reflect- 
ed light  of  this  truth.  A  man  growing  up  in  that  reflected  light  may 
go  a  great  way  up  in  the  Christian  life.  But  go  into  a  community 
where  there  is  no  such  reflected  light,  and  see  if  you  will  find  men 
that  ai'e  thus  lifted  up. 

What  we  want  is  not  more  knowledge.  Influence  is  what  we 
want.  The  apostle  says,  "  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of 
Christ.  It  is  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion." It  is  power  that  we  want.  I  do  not  care  for  this  as  a  technical 
question.  I  do  not  care  for  it  as  a  theological  question.  I  am  so 
far  from  the  binding  sympathy  of  the  schools,  that  it  would  cost 
me  nothing,  in  a  purely  philosophical  point  of  view,  to  take  one 
or  another  ground  on  any  doctrinal  question.  But  as  a  living  man, 
having  had  the  experience  of  my  own  soul,  and  having  been  conver- 
sant with  the  experiences  of  others,  what  I  want  is  power.  And  that 
is  what  they  lack  who  deny  the  divinity  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Then-  trouble  is  weakness.  They  are  elegant,  but  they  are  soft.  They 
are  refined,  but  they  are  inefiicient.  They  may  in  a  thousand  philan- 
thropies be  efficient ;  but  show  me  a  man  who  does  not  believe  in  the 
divinity  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Chi-ist,  and  I  will  show  you  a  man  who  can- 


CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER.  207 

not  take  direct  hold  of  the  conscience  or  the  soul  of  a  man,  and  shake 
him  with  the  power  of  the  judgment  to  come.  I  would  not  preach  as 
a  moralist,  having  preached,  so  long,  as  a  firm  believer  in  the  divinity 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  For  this  latter  is  the  teaching  of  man's  utter 
wreck  and  ruin,  and  of  the  power  of  love  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  takes  hold  of  the  imagination,  dominates  the  reason,  and  goes 
clear  down  into  the  dungeon-depths  of  a  man's  passions.  God  can 
cleanse  the  heart.  Man  cannot.  And  that  God  whom  we  can  under- 
stand is  the  God  that  walked  in  Jerusalem,  that  suffered  upon  Calvary, 
and  that  lives  again,  having  lifted  himself  up  into  eternal  spheres  of 
power,  that  he  miglit  bring  many  sons  and  daughters  home  to  Zion. 

Whatever,  then,  obscures  this  personal  divinity  in  Christ  Jesus, 
wliatever  keeps  it  away  from  a  man,  is  just  so  far  a  practical  heresy. 
It  may  be  done  by  denying  technically  the  divinity  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  but  it  is  done  otherwise.  It  is  sometimes  done  doctrinally.  It 
is  done,  oftentimes,  by  abstractions,  instead  of  personalities.  What 
a  man  needs  is  a  divine  Friend,  present  with  him,  loving  him,  heljjing 
him,  and  pouiing  the  actual  tide  of  soul-influence  in  upon  him ;  and 
au}i:hing  that  takes  that  away,  takes  away  substantially  the  divinity  and 
power  which  there  is  in  Chiist. 

We  see,  therefore,  the  mistake  of  substituting  plans  and  doctrines 
and  abstractions  of  government  for  the  personal  and  living  Saviour. 

I  have  received  many,  many  kind  letters,  well-intentioned,  from 
persons  who,  while  they  thought  my  preaching  was  edifying  to  those 
that  were  akeady  Christians,  did  not  believe  it  was  exactly  the  right 
kind  of  preaching  for  those  who  had  not  begun  to  be  Christians.  And 
they  complained  especially  because  I  said  so  little  about  the  blood  of 
Christy  and  so  little  about  the  atonement  of  Christ,  and  so  little  about  a 
plan  of  salvation,  and  so  little  about  the  cross. 

Now,  look  back  at  all  these  historical  phrases.  I  recognize  that 
once  they  not  only  were  living  terms,  but  had  a  distinct  relation  and 
benefit  In  the  use  of  the  people  by  whom  they  were  first  emploj^ed.  I 
can  understand  how  to  the  Jews,  brought  up  as  they  were,  "atonement," 
"sacrifice,"  and  "blood"  might  have  come  home  with  fresh  and  vivid 
meaning.  But  you  have  never  seen  a  bullock  killed  for  sacrifice  ;  you 
live  two  thousand  years  from  anything  of  the  sort ;  and  yet  you  are 
keeping  up  the  terms  of  sacrifice  and  slaughter.  And  I  hold  that 
while  we  may  use  these  terms  reverently,  because  they  ai-e  Scriptural, 
and  have  a  certain  artificially  sacred  association  connected  with  them, 
it  is  far  Ijetter  to  take  the  living  God,  and  bring  him,  by  the  language 
which  is  given  us  to-day,  to  the  bosom  and  heart  and  confidence  of  men. 

Tell  me,  have  I  fiiUed  to  preach  a  living  Christ?  Tell  me,  have  I 
failed  to  preach  a  Christ  bm-ning  with  sympathy  for  sinful  men  ?     Tell 


208  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

me,  have  I  failed  to  show  men,  dying  in  then-  sins,  that  there  was  a  love 
of  God  that  could  put  its  arms  about  them,  and  cleanse  them,  and  lift 
them  up  into  its  own  felicity,  if  they  were  willing?  Have  I  been  faith- 
less to  this  ?  Then  God  forgive  me !  for  all  my  ministry  has  been 
empty.  But  to  me  the  heaven  has  been  one  magnificent  procession  of 
divinities.  To  me  Christ  has  been  all  in  all.  Alpha  and  Omega,  begin- 
ning and  end,  ever-present,  and  ever-living.  I  have,  to  be  sure,  not 
preached  a  system  of  revelations.  I  have  not  used  the  abstract  term 
plan  of  salvation.  I  have  not  talked  about  the  atotiement.  I  have 
not  undertaken  to  sound  abstract  doctrines  in  your  ears.  I  have  done 
better  than  that ;  and  I  caU  God  to  witness  that  it  is  better.  I  have 
preached  a  li\dng  Jesus,  as  a  Brother,  a  Friend,  a  Saviour,  an  ever- 
loving  God ;  and  this  is  better  than  preaching  any  of  these  abstractions. 
It  is  better  than  preaching  any  of  the  old  symbolic  foiins  of  Scripture, 
and  especially  better  than  preaching  those  dogmas  that  have  been  con- 
structed by  philosophy  in  modern  times  or  mediaeval  days.  I  hold  that 
the  true  preaching  is  to  make  every  man  feel  that  God  has  had  compas- 
sion on  him ;  that  God,  instead  of  being  afar  off,  is  neai- ;  that  he  is 
powerful ;  that  in  the  struggle  which  men  are  waging  with  pride  and 
selfishness,  with  the  appetites  and  jjassions,  they  are  not  alone ;  that 
not  only  are  the  heavenly  hosts  spectators,  but  chiefly  He  is  a  sj^ectator 
who  died  for  them,  and  ever  intercedes  for  them. 

I  have  preached  this.  It  is  right  preaching.  K  there  was  more  of 
it,  theology  would  not  be  so  dead,  and  chm-ches  would  not  be  so  thin. 
It  is  because  preaching  is  usually  doctrinal  and  abstract  that  it  does  not 
touch  men,  and  that  they  do  not  want  it.  What  man  wants  who  is 
striving  with  an  infirmity,  is  to  be  told,  "  God  does  not  hate  you.  He 
feels  for  you.  He  has  shown  it  in  that  he  has  suffered  for  you.  And 
as  he  did  once  in  Jeimsalem,  so  will  he  do  again.  It  is  the  essential, 
inherent,  eternal  nature  of  God,  to  give  hunself  for  the  rescue  of  those 
who  are  poor." 

Man  is  low  down.  His  guiding  light  blazes  yonder.  With  every  step 
upward  he  is  coming  nearer  and  nearer  to  himself,  because  he  is  coming 
nearer  to  his  God.  One  man  is  tempted  with  lust ;  another  with  pride ; 
another  with  avarice ;  another  with  a  domineering  ambition ;  another 
with  an  appetite  for  drunkenness  and  gluttony.  Here  come  men,  with 
these  various  experiences,  and  cluster  before  God.  Is  there  any  re- 
demption for  them?  Is  there  any  remedy  for  then-  troubles?  Men  hate 
them.  Lust  hisses  at  them.  A  rod  of  u'on  is  wielded  over  them  in 
the  community.  Men  that  do  wrong  veiy  soon  become  discouraged 
and  outcast.  And  they  need  help.  The  point  of  sympathy  and  succor 
in  the  whole  universe  is  in  the  heait  of  the  revealed  God — in  Jesus 
Christ. 


CHEIST,  THE  DELIVEREH.  200 

A  snip  runs  iigTouiid  in  a  liigh  wind.  The  men  are  beaten  off.  Tliey 
ai'e  a  mile  from  the  shore.  While  one  and  another  go  down,  some 
more  stalwart  arm  buffets  the  waves.  What  with  the  wind  and  the 
"waves  and  his  own  tugging  endeavors,  he  reaches  at  last  so  near  the 
sliore  that  he  can  put  his  foot  to  the  saad.  At  last,  when  he  is  almost 
spent,  a  wave  leaves  him,  as  it  rolls  out  surging  seaward,  and  he  is  on 
the  land.  And  oh  !  if  he  could  haste  to  secure  his  footing ;  but  back 
it  comes,  roaring  up  to  him,  rushing  around  and  beyond  him,  and 
swings  him  out  again.  Fainter,  but  with  pluck  to  the  last,  he  strives 
once  more  to  come  ixp  on  the  beach,  and  maintains  his  foothold,  and 
again  the  wave  leaves  him.  But  again  it  comes  and  sweeps  him  out. 
So  it  plays  with  him  as  a  cat  with  a  mouse,  till  by  and  by  his  strength  is 
gone,  and  he  collapses  like  the  rags  that  are  on  him,  and  he,  cairied  as 
the  water  wills,  is  drowned. 

So  I  see  men  who  have  gone  wi'ong  striving  to  reform.  I  see  men 
that  have  broken  down  the  laws  of  health  in  theii-  own  bodies,  men 
who  by  drink  and  gluttony  and  lust  are  consuming  the  marrow  of  their 
life,  seeking  to  get  on  shore  again,  and  escape.  And  they  are  almost 
saved,  and  would  be  quite,  if  it  were  not  that  temptations  come  rush- 
ing in,  and  sweep  them  off  from  then-  feet.  Is  there  nobody  to  pity 
them  ?  Are  men  like  the  solitary  mariner  on  a  desolate  coast,  whose 
whole  strife  is  in  the  night,  and  who  is  without  a  spectator  ?  No,  no  ! 
God  is  doing  something  else  besides  brightening  the  sun  and  oiling  the 
stars!  God  sits  in  heaven  to  love.  There  are  secrets  of  God's  provi- 
dence, and  wonder-working  ways  of  God  that  will  yet  flame  in  blessed 
disclosm-e.  God's  loving  heart  is  the  source  of  that  circulating  blood 
which,  going  through  all  the  globe,  is  restoring  life,  and  helping  men. 

Are  your  father  and  mother  dead  ?  No.  God  is  your  Father  and 
your  Mother.  Do  you  say,  "Nobody  cares  for  my  soul !"  The  out- 
stretched arms  of  Him  that  suffered  are  about  you.  There  is  a  Chi-ist 
who  believes  in  men,  thinks  for  men,  longs  for  men,  and  strives  for 
men.  And  there  is  no  man  that  has  gone  so  Avi-ong  but  that,  if  he 
will,  he  may  be  clean,  may  be  strong,  and  may  be  saved. 

This  Jesus  Christ  I  preach  to  you.  I  do  not  believe  any  man  will 
make  an  important  victory  over  himself  without  this  di\-ine  help.  I  do 
not  believe  any  man  Avill  escape  without  a  ransom.  I  do  not  believe 
any  man  who  is  whelmed  in  sin,  and  whose  sin  has  bound  him  hand 
and  foot,  is  going  to  be  rescued,  till  the  revelation  of  the  gloiy  of  God 
in  Christ  Jesus  has  come  into  his  soul. 

Why,  a  sinful  man  is  like  the  man  in  the  castle,  whose  stoiy 
amused  our  youth.  His  hands  are  bound.  His  feet  are  fettered. 
Thick  walls,  windows  far  up,  heavy  doors,  many  bolts,  and  jailors, 
make  his  escape  impossible.     So  he  only  awaits  the  day  of  execution. 


210  CEBI8T,  THE  DELIVERER. 

But  as  he  sleeps,  some  night,  a  strange  dream  haunts  him,  of  home.  He 
thinks  his  mother  has  come  to  him.  But,  starting  up,  he  sees  that 
there  stands  beside  him  a  beauteous  form,  who  says  to  him,  "  Make 
haste !  Lift  your  hands,  that  I  may  release  them."  And  she  takes  off 
the  chains.  She  has  beheld  him,  and  she  knows  his  name,  and  love 
has  brought  her  there.  It  is  the  castle-keeper's  daughter.  "  Lift  up 
yom*  feet,"  she  says,  "  that  I  may  set  them  free."  What  he  could  not 
do  for  himself,  love  and  mercy  are  doing  for  him.  "  Now,  follow  me 
silently."  The  guards  are  all  put  to  sleep,  or  out  of  the  way.  The  door  is 
opened ;  he  never  could  have  opened  it.  The  passageways  are  threaded; 
he  never  could  have  found  his  way  through  them.  He  feels  again  the 
midnight  air  beginning  to  lift  his  damp  hau-,  long  matted.  He  begins 
to  breathe  once  more  the  atmosphere  of  liberty.  And  can  language  be 
found  with  which,  under  such  ckcumstances,  one  would  turn  to  his 
benefactor,  though  he  had  known  her  but  in  the  hour  of  his  release  ? 
Would  he  not  be  a  monster  whose  heart  did  not  leap  out  in  thanksgiv- 
ing at  such  a  time  ? 

You  are  such  prisoners.  Jesus  is  that  mercy  and  that  love.  He 
has  come  down  to  yom*  dungeon,  and  unlocked  yom*  chains,  and  in 
spked  you  with  courage  and  strength,  and  opened  the  door,  saying, 
"I  am  the  way."  Follow  him ;  every  step  will  make  you  stronger. 
Follow  him  ;  every  step  will  take  you  farther  from  bondage  and  nearer 
to  liberty.  Follow  him ;  every  step  will  lead  you  toward  your  true 
manhood.  Follow  him  ;  and  soon  you  shall  stand  in  Zion  and  before 
God. 

Oh,  ye  weary!  why  are  you  weary  when  others  rest?  Oh,  ye  sick! 
wiiy  do  you  suffer  when  others  are  healed  ?  Oh,  starving  and  hunger- 
mg!  there  is  bread  enough.  Oh,  dying!  there  is  life  for  you.  Oh, 
desponding  and  despairing !  look  up  and  rejoice.  A  great  light  has 
arisen  to  those  that  sit  in  the  region  and  shadow  of  death.  Come  to 
Christ,  who  loves  you,  who  is  drawing  you,  and  who  has  said  to  each 
one  of  you,  "I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee." 


CUBIST,  THE  DELIVERER.  211 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  rejoice,  our  Father,  that  we  may  feel  our  way  to  thee  by  the  way  of  the  cradle; 
by  the  way  of  home;  by  the  way  of  father  and  mother.  Not  when  we  are  lifted  up 
■where  science  carries  us,  and  where  reason  leads  us — not  when  wo  deal  with  those  things 
alone,  can  wo  find  thee  out;  but  when  our  hearts  are  warm  with  love — that  love  which 
lends  ns  to  abase  ourselves,  to  be  weak  for  the  sake  of  the  weak,  to  walk  with  the 
lowly  for  the  sake  of  the  lowly;  that  love  which  denies  itself,  and  counts  solf-denial  a 
privilege;  that  love  which  watches  and  waits,  and  is  long-sufi'oring  and  kind.  Then 
when  wo  are  in  those  blessed  affections,  thou  tellost  us  to  look  up  and  call  thee  Father, 
and  ourselves  sons,  and  we  shall  understand  both  thee  and  our  relations  to  thee.  And 
so,  in  the  realm  of  love,  whore  thou  sittest  to-day,  the  universal  Father,  we  seek  thee, 
not  coming  as  if  we  were  thy  sons  in  glory,  infinitely  removed,  but  full  of  ignorance, 
scarcely  able  to  walk.  We  draw  near  to  thee  as  little  children  ;  and  not  only  as 
little  children,  but  as  fractious  and  disobedient  children.  Wo  have  not  come 
simply  because  without  thee  wo  perish.  There  is  something  that  longs  for  thee 
within  us.  There  is  the  voice  that  will  not  be  hushed.  There  is  the  soul  that  is 
sick  without  thee,  and  that  is  homesick  without  assurance  of  heaven.  There  is 
the  memory  of  all  thy  past  goodness.  There  is  the  memory  of  our  own  struggles 
upon  which  thou  didst  place  the  victory.  There  is  the  memory  of  our  defeats,  and 
of  our  dungeon  darkness  which  thou  didst  visit.  There  is  the  memory  of  that  peace 
■which  passoth  all  understanding,  and  which  hath  come  to  us.  E^pen  as  the  dove  came 
and  sat  upon  our  Master,  so  upon  us  hath  come  the  heavenly  dove.  We  remember  all 
thy  dealings  with  us,  all  the  mercies  of  thine  open  heart  and  thine  outstretched  hand; 
and  we  come  again.  As  they  that  walk  forth  from  the  winter  toward  the  summer,  and 
remember  again  all  the  things  that  are  coming,  and  all  the  sweet  smell  of  the  field,  and 
aU  the  unrolling  leaves,  and  all  the  fragrance  of  the  quick-coming  flowers  that  are  before 
them,  though  they  have  been  hidden  long;  so  when  we  turn  toward  thee  from  the  winter 
and  darkness  of  our  earthly  life,  and  we  remember  again  what  things  have  been;  and  thou 
soemest  to  us  most  glorious,  not  because  thou  art  larger  than  the  sun,  and  brighter,  not 
because  of  the  infiniteness  that  is  in  thee,  but  because  of  thy  goodness,  thv  mercy,  thy 
gentleness  and  thy  tenderness.  If  thou  hadst  with  sternness  looked  over  al)  the  way  in 
■which  we  have  been  living,  if  thou  hadst  been  without  care  or  sympathy  for  us,  if  thou 
hadst  appointed  the  laws  of  nature  to  strike  the  transgressor,  and  to  spare  not,  saying. 
The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die,  wo  had  all  perished  long  ago.  For  we  have  wandered 
about  as  drunken  men.  We  have  reeled  to  and  fro  as  men  storm-tossed.  We  have  not 
been  able  to  do  good  to  ourselves.  And  thou,  oh  Lord  God  !  hast  been  more  kind  to  us 
than  ever  a  nurse  to  the  child  that  was  sick— than  ever  the  loving  mother  to  the  child 
that  had  gone  wrong.  Thou  hast  been  better  than  any  father  ever  knew  how  to  be. 
We  bring  the  glow-worm  light  of  our  love  to  our  children;  but  what  is  that  compared 
■with  the  ages  of  thy  euduring  love,  deeper  than  thought  can  sound,  and  wider  than  the 
understanding  can  reach  ?  We  are  ourselves  too  selfish  to  know  thee.  Vfe  do  not  our- 
selves know  enough  love  to  talk  in  the  language  of  heaven;  and  that  which  wo  have  is 
too  often  BO  allied  to  things  lower  and  baser,  that  it  is  adulterated  love.  We  cannot 
understand  our  God  because  we  are  so  far  from  him,  and  so  unlike  him.  Yet  that  does 
not  destroy  us;  for,  as  we  care  for  our  children  long  before  thej  kno^w  us,  as  we  care  for 
them  when  sickness  takes  away  their  reason  and  judgment,  so  thou,  looking  upon  the 
distcmperature  of  our  souls,  aud  seeing  all  the  misery  that  it  threatens,  art  still  patient 
■with  us;  and  thy  heart  is  our  nursery.  There  are  we  tended  aud  eared  for.  Oh  ;  that  we 
but  knew  it.  Oh  !  that  wo  but  knew  the  royalty  that  is  around  us.  With  what  mean- 
ings would  thy  providence  every  day  speak  to  us  if  our  eye  was  only  cleansed  from  all 
iftms,  and  our  hearts  from  seltiHhuess;  if  we  could  at  times  kuDW  that  tbou  didst  watch 
over  U9  in  sickness;  if  in  the  darkness  of  our  delirium  we  could  understand  Hmt  thou  ait 
not  far  from  us— not  far  from  any  one  of  us;  not  far  from  the  most  sinful;  not  far  from 
tihe  guiltiest  and  wickedest.  If  we  but  knew  these  things  what  hope  of  rccoveiy  would 
ceme  to  us  !     What  joy  of  salvation !    It  is  thy  gentleness  that  shall  save  us.    Oh  Lord 


212  CHRIST,  THE  DELIVERER. 

Jesus !  it  is  not  the  miglit  nor  the  power  of  our  own  will ;  for  the  more  sternly  we  stand 
up,  the  more  hrittle  are  we,  and  the  more  easily  are  we  snapped  before  the  breeze.  It  is 
thj-  love,  it  is  thy  patience,  it  is  that  power  working  in  us— that  holy  and  blessed  Spirit 
of  light  and  comfort.  By  thy  mercy,  by  thy  goodness,  by  thy  gentleness  we  shall  be 
saved. 

And  now  we  pray  that  every  heart  that  has  learned  that  sweet  and  blessed  secret 
may  turn  to  thee  this  morning  with  thanksgiving.  And  may  every  thought  sing.  May 
every  feeling  sing.  May  we  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,  to-day.  May 
we  look  forward  beyond  the  struggle.  As  even  in  battle  men  remember  their  home  to 
which  they  Lope  victory  soon  shall  bring  them  ;  so  may  we,  when  girded  about  with 
trial  and  temptation,  remember  the  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God.  It  is 
not  far  off  from  many  of  us.  Some  are  already  reaching  out  the  hand  to  open  the  door. 
Our  crown— thou  art  holding  it  forth,  if  we  but  knew  the  shining  thereof.  May  we 
remember  that  we  are  traveling  as  children  in  vacation  homeward  to  our  Father's  house; 
and  may  we  not  therefore  care  for  the  weariness  of  the  way,  nor  for  the  hindrances,  nor 
for  any  deprivations.    May  we  steadfastly  live  by  foresight  and  faith  of  the  joy  to  come. 

But  while  we  are  living,  may  we  yet  help  one  another.  May  we  bear  one  another's 
burdens.  May  wo  see  to  it  that  we  do  not  sin  by  pride,  nor  by  arrogance,  nor  by  selfish- 
ness, nor  by  hardness  of  heart.  May  we  seek,  rather,  to  dwell  evermore  as  thou  dost  in 
infinite  love;  in  generosity  of  benevolence;  in  the  full  patience  of  God.  And  we  pray 
that  we  may  go  about  doing  good,  though  we  can  go  but  in  small  circuits,  even  as  thou 
didst  in  the  round  realm  of  earth  and  time. 

And  we  beseeech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God,  that  tbou  wilt  have  compassion  upon  all 
those  for  whom  we  should  pray;  those  that  are  thralled;  those  that  are  ensnared ;  those 
that  have  fallen  into  the  pit ;  those  that  are  in  great  darkness  and  trouble  and  gloom  and 
despondency;  those  who  are  sick;  those  whose  prosperity  has  been  overturued  as  by  the 
wind  from  the  desert;  those  who  are  strangers  in  a  strange  land;  those  who  are  filled 
with  bitterness  and  self-condemnation;  those  that  taste  remorse;  those  that  are  neglect- 
ed and  outcast;  those  who  are  in  prison,  and  who  are  appointed  unto  death ;  all  that  are 
wandering  in  poverty  and  abandonment ;  all  that  are  steeped  in  ignorance,  in  vice  and 
in  crime. 

O  good  Lord,  what  dost  thou  do  ?  Is  this  world  dear  to  thee  ?  Dost  thou  love  man  1 
Our  souls  shake  within  us,  and  we  are  fuU  of  anguish  when  we  look  upon  the  face  of 
man,  and  see  how  men  betray;  how  men  hate  and  devour;  how  full  of  wretchedness  and 
sin  the  world  is,  that  goes  on  repeating  itself  from  generation  to  generation;  how  the 
voice  of  time  is  a  wail ;  how  all  things  are  most  sad  to  behold.  And  dost  thou  sit  looking 
forevermore  upon  these  things?  O  Lord,  reveal  the  right  hand  of  thy  power.  Come; 
for  this  desolate  earth  doth  wait  for  thy  coming,  more  than  for  the  coming  of  summer. 
Come,  oh  thou  that  hast  promised  salvation,  and  lead  forth  thine  hosts  unto  victory. 
Lift  up  thy  banner  that  shall  never  be  furled.  Speak  in  that  trumpet  voice  which  shall 
overawe  all  other  sounds.  Come,  thou  that  art  the  promised  One,  and  fulfill  all  the  pro- 
mises which  respect  this  earth.  Bring  in  Jew  and  Gentile.  Bring  in  all  wandering  and 
heathen  nations.  Bring  in  all  the  scattered  and  dispersed  among  our  own  people.  Bring 
in  all  that  are  dying,  and  that  cannot  live  except  in  thee. 

A-ud  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise.  Blather,  Son  and  Spirit,  evermore.    Amen, 


XIV. 

The  God  of  PitYo 


INVOCATION. 

Grant,  Our  Father,  that  divine  help  which  every  one  of  us  needs.  In 
the  midst  of  darkness,  oppressed  with  care,  struggling  with  hindrances, 
tempted  and  cast  down,  often  discouraged,  do  we  not  need  thee  ?  O  help- 
ful Hand,  reach  forth  this  day,  then,  by  thy  good  Spirit,  to  every  one  of  us. 
Grant  us  that  blessing  which  shall  give  us  faith,  and  hope,  and  joy.  May 
the  services  of  thy  sanctuary  to-day  be  greatly  blessed  to  us  all.  The  read- 
ing of  thy  word,  the  offering  up  of  prayer,  the  fellowship  of  sacred  song, 
our  devotion,  all  the  services  of  instruction,  here  and  everywhere,  this  day — 
grant  thy  blessing  upon  them.  We  ask  it  through  Christ,  our  Redeemer. 
Amen. 


THE  GOD  OP  PITY. 


"Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  hiiu    For  he  know- 
?*li  our  frame ;  he  remembereth  that  we  are  dust." — Psa.  CIH.  13,14. 


These  words  are  like  a  fountain  in  the  wilderness.  There  is  in  na- 
tui-e  no  evidence  of  pity.  The  revelation  of  it  in  God  must  have 
sprung  from  some  other  source  than  the  teachings  of  natural  law. 

The  whole  Psalm  is  wonderful,  if  it  be  contrasted  with  the  notions 
of  the  age  in  which  it  was  written  respecting  God.  There  was  much 
in  the  mythology  of  the  civilized  heathen  which  was  attractive  to  the 
imagination.  Certainly,  gi'ace  and  beauty  have  found  no  more  adrau'a- 
ble  exposition  than  in  Greek  mythology.  But  the  heathen  gods  were 
heartless.  They  were  devoid  of  elevation  of  sentiment.  They  were 
still  more  devoid  of  sympathy  and  pity.  And,  for  that  matter,  all 
other  mythologies  and  heathenisms  have  been  utterly  bereft  of  the 
sentiment  of  pity  in  then-  divinities.  They  have  been  just — at  least  in 
name  ;  they  have  been  stern  ;  they  have  been  patriotic — ^for  they  have 
been  gods  of  nations  ;  but  the  element  of  sympathy — sympathy  with 
human  sin,  and  with  the  results  or  effects  of  it — belongs  entu-ely  to 
the  God  of  the  Bible.  A  higher  conception  of  God's  character  in  its 
domestic  element  is  not  anywhere  to  be  found  than  this.  Pity  is  a 
state  of  kindness  excited  by  the  sight  of  suffering. 

1.  There  is  no  evidence  to  be  derived  of  the  existence  of  pity  in  any 
overniling  Deity,  as  far  as  the  laws  of  nature  reveal  the  divine  charac- 
ter. I  am  speaking  of  the  vast  organism  of  the  globe,  and  what  we 
call  natural,  material  laws.  Looking  out  upon  things  as  they  are,  it 
would  seem  almost  as  if  some  being  of  wondi'ous  wisdom  and  won- 
drous might  had  builded  a  vast  machine,  illimitable  in  its  might,  and  as 
if  by  its  iiTesistible  force  it  moved  on,  crushing  some,  bearing  on 
others,  producing  a  thousand  fruits  of  good,  and  a  thousand  mischiefs, 
itself  unknowing  and  unconscious  both  of  the  one  and  of  the  other. 
The  benefits  tliat  we  derive  from  natural  laws  are  benefits  which  are 
given  to  us,  as  it  were,  out  of  a  cold  hand.  To  those  who  think  upon 
the  course  of  time,  and  the  history  of  events,  nothing  excites  more  sur- 
prise, nothing  seems  stranger,  than  the  craelties  which  nature  has  set 

SUNHAT  MoRNiNo,  Dec.  12,1869.     Lksson:  Psa  ciii.  IIvmns  (Ph-mouth  Collection).  Nob. 
284,  128,  102. 


?14  THE  GOD  OF  PITT. 

on  foot.  The  organization  of  the  animal  kingdom  upon  the  piin 
ciple  of  destructiveness  ;  the  making  of  one  thing  food  for  another; 
the  ignorance  of  man  in  respect  to  natural  law,  and  in  respect  to  the 
crushing  influences  of  disobedience  of  natm-al  law ;  the  want  of  any 
sign  in  nature  of  sympathy  for  those  who  are  dying  by  reason  of  their 
ignorance — these  things  go  to  show  that  we  must  look  in  some  other 
direction  if  we  would  find  pity. 

The  child  lies  sick,  and  you  throw  back  the  window  blinds,  and  the 
morning  sun  falls  upon  its  little  head  ;  and  it  seems  for  the  moment  as 
though  the  sun  did  pity  the  child  and  the  parents,  and  as  though  this 
was  its  benediction ;  and  yet,  if  you  look  out  upon  the  window-sill,  it 
is  but  the  same  thing  which  it  is  doing  for  that.  It  is  but  just  what  it 
would  do  for  an  apple  that  hung  upon  the  bough.  It  knows  no  affec- 
tion. It  cares  neither  for  the  child,  nor  for  those  that  suffer  for  it. 
The  affection  is  in  us,  and  is  transferred  to  it,  if  the  thought  comes 
to  us. 

A  thousand,  and  a  thousand,  and  a  thousand  men  fell  upon  the 
field  of  Gettysburgh.  The  sky  did  not  care ;  the  winds  did  not  care ; 
the  earth  did  not  care  ;  the  jolly  fat  soil  that  sent  np  a  richer  crop  of 
grass  did  not  care ;  the  trees  that  never  grew  so  lush  as  out  of  blood 
(strange  food  for  those  trees),  did  not  care.  And  yet,  a  million  hearts 
were  aching  for  the  scenes  that  transpu'ed  there.  In  nature  there  was 
no  knowledge,  and  no  sympathy  or  j^ity,  nor  any  sign  of  any.  Look- 
ing only  on  the  face  of  nature,  one  uninstructed  would  say,  "  The  God 
of  nature  does  not  knoAV  what  it  is  to  sorrow  for  anyth  ing,  or  for  any- 
body." Is  nature  his  ?  Did  he  make  it "?  Did  he  make  it  on  purpose  ? 
Did  he  make  it  so  cruel  and  heartless  ?  These  are  questions  that  one  is 
prone  to  ask. 

The  study  of  natm'e  leads  us  to  see  creative  design  in  other  respects. 
Men  that  study  the  material  world  come  to  have  a  sense  of  creative 
power  in  an  eminent  degree.  More,  they  come  to  have  a  profound 
sense  of  creative  wisdom,  and  wisdom  evinced  in  design,  as  well. 

Nay,  there  are  some  indications  which,  taken  by  themselves,  would 
lead  one  to  think  that  he  who  created  this  material  globe  was  good,  be- 
cause there  are  a  thousand  tendencies  that  move  toward  good.  But 
this  is  combatted  Ijy  a  thousand  other  tendencies  which  seem  to  move 
toward  evil.  Nevertheless,  a  man  who  is  benevolent,  and  symjDathetic, 
and  who  takes  a  large  view  of  the  structure  of  the  globe,  is  likely  to 
suppose  that  the  one  who  made  this  natural  world  was  a  God  of  good- 
ness. But  if  you  turn  from  goodness  to  taste,  to  beauty,  to  exquisite 
haiTnony,  nobody  can  doubt  that  he  who  created  the  world  was  a  lover 
of  beauty,  and  that  the  elements  of  beauty  were  in  his  nature.  Yet, 
when  one  studies  the  structure  of  this  natural  world  to  ascertain  what 


V" 


THE  GOD  OF  PITY.  '  215 

kind  of  :i  being  tlidt  must  be  who  made  it,  where  is  there  anything  that 
shall  suggest  pity  ?  I  do  not  know.  It  is  a  most  remorseless  nature. 
It  is  a  most  unpitying  nature.  It  destroys  men.  Myriads  of  lives  are 
crushed  out  by  it  every  hour.  And  there  is  no  soiTow,  no  holding 
back,  no  leniency,  no  sign  of  pity,  anywhere. 

Following  up  the  trail  of  this  thought,  we  shall  begin  to  find,  in  the 
lower  range  of  animated  creation,  a  trace — or  that  germ  which  finally 
becomes  a  trace — of  feeling.  It  fu'st  develops  itself  in  the  very  nar- 
rowest form  of  affection.  There  seems  to  be,  among  some  of  the  lowest 
orders  of  animals,  the  rudest  beginnings  of  affection  toward  their  off- 
spring. It  does  not  seem  to  go  any  further  than  that.  Nor  is  it  man- 
ifested toward  their  offspring  except  in  the  very  slightest  measure.  But 
as  we  rise  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  organized  animals,  there  does 
begin  to  be  a  very  distinct  manifestation  of  affection.  It  becomes  veiy 
strong,  very  piteous,  even,  and  extremely  beautiful.  The  affection  of 
animals  for  their  young  is  stronger  than  then-  love  of  then-  own  lives. 
Among  the  higher  animals  there  are  a  few  that  go  further,  and  seem  to 
show  pity.  Dogs  seem  to  show  pity.  And  yet  Dog  is  the  term  of 
reproach  the  world  around.  Next  to  a  man  a  dog  and  a  horse  are  tho 
best  things,  I  think,  on  the  globe — though  they  are  the  most  abused  and 
most  contemned  in  speech.  In  the  matter  of  disinterested  and  enduring 
affection — affection  that  risks  all — a  dog  Avould  put  many  and  many  a 
man  to  shame.  How  many  men  will  go  and  sit  down  on  a  master's 
grave  and  die  of  stai'vation  there  because  he  is  dead  ?     A  dog  will ! 

Not  only  dogs,  but  birds  show  pity.  Of  course  it  is  in  a  very  lim 
ited  way,  and  only  occasionally.  Not  all  birds  show  great  affection  for 
then-  young ;  but  blackbu'ds  have  been  known,  seeing  a  little  robbin 
that  had  fallen  out  of  the  nest,  and  had  been  abandoned  by  its  parents, 
and  was  not  large  enough  to  feed  itself,  to  go  to  work  and  hunt  food 
for  it,  and  bring  to  it  regularly,  till  it  was  able  to  feed  itself.  This,  cer- 
tainly, was  an  inflection  of  pity.  It  was  not  the  blackbu-d's  own  species. 
The  blackbird  knew  that  it  was  not  its  own.  The  blackbird  has  a  way 
of  knowing  what  is  and  what  is  not  its  own. 

So  there  is,  among  these  lower  ordei-s  of  creation,  the  first  blush  of 
that  which  in  the  higher  organization  of  the  human  race  becomes  pity. 

Among  men  the  feeling  of  pity  is  first  disclosed  in  a  very  clear 
way.  In  rude  and  savage  races  you  see  it  occasionally.  There  are 
some — a  few — very  noble  natures  among  the  lowest  savages.  They 
are  uncultured,  of  course,  and  their  kindness  is  rude.  It  has  never  been 
studious  of  special  ways  of  showing  itself.  Nevertheless,  it  is  there, 
and  does  manifest  itself. 

As  civilization  advances,  tho  brutal  and  cruel  qualities  of  the  races 
decrease,  and  pily  and  compassion  increase.      The  cairjing  of  man  up 


21o  TEE  GOD  OF  PITY 

toward  the  ideal  of  manhood,  develops  him  away  from  force  and  bru- 
tality, and  toward  pity  and  compassion.  True  manhood,  therefore,  lies 
in  that  dii'ection.  The  further  you  go  from  typical  man,  the  more  you 
lose  pity  as  a  constituent  element.  The  further  you  go  from  the  rude 
germ  of  creation,  up  toward  its  perfect  development,  the  more  large 
and  ample  and  glowing  becomes  the  emotion  of  pity,  and  the  use  of 
it  in  human  life. 

The  highest  nations  have  it  ui  the  largest  measure ;  and  among 
nations,  the  largest  and  noblest  natures  have  it  in  the  strongest  degrees. 
Therefore,  when  we  look  upon  human  society,  in  distinction  from  the 
material  and  organized  globe,  and  take  that  to  be  the  creation  of  some 
personal  being,  we  are  prepared  to  say  that  there  is  evidence,  if  we  ex- 
amine the  history  of  the  race,  that  there  is  a  God  of  pity,  who  organ- 
ized such  beings,  and  gave  them  such  constituent  faculties.  We  are 
prepared  to  beUeve  that  the  analogy  of  this  line  of  development  con- 
tinues, and  that  in  angels  it  is  as  much  superior  to  what  it  is  in  the 
highest  men,  as  in  the  highest  men  it  is  superior  to  what  it  is  in  the 
lowest.  And  we  are  prepared  to  believe  that,  above  angels  and  all 
supernal  beings,  in  God  himself,  it  takes  on  a  grandeur  and  dignity  ut- 
terly inconceivable  to  men,  and  commensurate  with  the  infiniteness  of 
Grod's  whole  nature. 

2.  When  we  look  at  human  society,  we  must  go  thi'ough  a  like 
process  to  that  which  we  have  now  been  going  thi'ough.  If  Ave  look 
at  it  as  an  organization,  I  think  we  shall  find  that  it  does  not  fitly 
serve  as  an  analogue  to  the  divine  nature.  We  shall  not  read  God's 
nature,  and  the  natm-e  of  God's  government  aright,  if  we  under- 
take to  infer  them  from  what  we  see  in  the  administration  of  govern- 
ment among  men.  And  yet,  this  is  the  most  common  mode  of  deriv- 
ing our  theories  of  moral  government,  as  it  is  the  most  common 
method  by  which  we  undertake  to  ascertain  and  to  frame  the  peculiar 
administration  and  nature  of  God.  But  I  will  show  that  it  is  an  emi- 
nently faulty  analogue.  Civil  and  criminal  law  may  be  humane ;  but 
they  cannot  have  pity,  as  such.  It  is  an  abstractioii  to  speak  of  law. 
We  scarcely  can  separate  law  from  the  administration  of  it  by  officers. 

Laws  then,  cannot  have  sympathy  with  the  culprit.  Neither  can 
magistrates,  except  as  men ;  and  the  man  breaks  through  into  the  mag- 
istrate peii^etually.  Magisti-ates  may  have  sympathy ;  but  in  a  purely 
official  character  they  cannot.  That  is  not  what  they  were  made  mag- 
istrates for.  It  is  contrary  to  the  function  which  they  were  set  to  dis- 
charge. As  a  ruler,  a  man  cannot  have  pity.  2'he  soul  that  sinneth, 
it  shall  suffer — it  shall  die,  is  just  as  true  in  abstract  and  absolute  civil 
government,  as  it  is  in  material  nature.  If  thtie  is  any  pity,  it  is  lim- 
ited, and  must  be  regai'ded  as  a  kind  of  interpolation.     Government 


THE  OOD  OF  riTY.  217 

was  not  meant  for  pm-poses  of  restoration.  It  was  meant  to  be  a  re- 
straining, guiding,  penal  institution.  It  does  not  undertake  to  exercise 
all  moral  attributes  and  oiSces.  It  would  be  impossible  for  it  to  do  it. 
You  may  say  that  a  judge  ought  to  be  upright.  You  may  say  that 
a  magistrate  ought  to  be  pure.  You  may  say  that  all  nilers  ought  to 
be  pitying  and  kind.  And  as  men  they  ought  to  be,  and  may  be,  and 
often  are.  But  looking  at  then-  abstract  design,  standing  as  the  rep- 
resentatives of  law  and  government,  w^e  see  that  kindness  and  pity  are 
no  part  of  the  function  that  they  were  expected  to  assume  or  exercise. 

Human  society  itself  is  a  rude  and  clumsy  organization  of  human 
forces.  Men  cannot  stop  the  progress  of  business,  men  cannot  suspend 
rules,  men  cannot  make  exceptions  every  day,  in  order  to  take  care  of 
the  weak.  The  business  of  human  society  is  like  a  treadmill.  It 
docs  not  go  by  the  volition  of  the  men  that  are  on  it,  but  by  machinery ; 
and  men  must  step  on,  or  be  dragged  round  and  round.  Organized 
business  is  obliged  to  hold  on  in  its  steady  course,  and  more  or  less 
disregard  the  weak  and  the  suffering.  It  cannot  undertake  to  play  an 
eleemosynary  part.  If  it  were  to  undertake  to  do  what  an  individual 
could  do,  more  harm  than  good  would  come  of  it.  The  vast  com- 
plicated factory  cannot  stop  all  its  functions  to  relieve  one  that  is 
suffering,  without  throwing  fifty  others  into  suffering. 

And  this  is  not  because  society  is  so  perfect,  but  because  it  is  so 
weak.  It  is  because  human  organizations,  whether  of  government  or 
business,  are  but  expedients,  and  veiy  clumsy  expedients.  As  compared 
with  barbarity,  organizations  are  admu'able ;  but  as  compared  with  a 
perfect  government,  they  are  extremely  rude.  Organized  business  is  a 
thing  of  law ;  and  law  is  always  hard  and  unrelenting. 

3.  Above  all  other  places,  it  is  in  the  family  and  m  the  individual 
heart  that  we  find  the  full  disclosure  of  pity,  or  a  state  of  sympathy 
and  helpfulness  in  view  of  another's  suffering.  There  pity  may  expand 
and  have  free  course.  If,  then,  one  would  gain  the  clearest  ideas  of 
the  scope  and  nature  of  pity,  he  must  study  it  in  the  fiimily.  Parents 
of  large-mindedness  and  great  goodness ;  parents  that  ai'e  just  and 
benevolent — the/^re  the  ones  that  we  must  study;  not  loose,  silly, 
over-indulgent  parents ;  not  those  that  love  their  childi'en  in  such  a  way 
as  to  spoil  them,  but  persons  of  discretion,  of  moral  ideas,  of  magni- 
tude, and  firmness ;  persons  that  have  an  intense  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  honor  and  dishonor,  goodness  and* evil ;  persons  that  love  their 
children  so  that  they  desire  to  bring  them  up  into  real  moral  strength. 
They  are  the  ones  that  we  must  study  if  w^e  wish  to  come  to  a  true 
idea  of  the  natui-e  of  pity. 

"\Yhat,  then,  do  we  see  in  looking  at  such  men  ?  We  see  that  love 
inflicts  pain.     There  is  not  a  father  that  is  fit  to  be  called  father,  who 


218  THE  GOD  OF  PITY. 

does  not  sometimes  punish  Lis  child  because  he  loves  him.  There  la 
not  a  mother  so  tender  that  she  does  not  sometimes  give  her  child 
intentional  pain.  Strange  would  that  child  be  that  never  requhed  it. 
Children  are  perpetually  throwing  themselves,  by  reason  of  their 
ignorance,  upon  -svi-ong  ways  ;  and  if  they  are  well  organized  they  will 
have  the  um-egulated  principle  of  firmness  and  tenacity  of  will ;  and 
that  must  go  through  di'ill  and  education.  The  child  does  not  know 
any  better ;  and  that  is  the  way  it  is  to  be  taught  better.  All  our 
earlier  teaching  goes  through  the  basilar  faculties.  It  is  fear — nay 
lower  than  fear,  it  is  sentient  sufiering — that  infuses  our  very  earliest 
ideas,  and  precedes  all  ideas.  Beginning  at  the  lowest  point,  we  have 
to  work  our  way  gradually  up  thi-ough  the  social  and  sjDuitual  elements. 
And  every  wise,  just,  pm-e,  high-minded,  noble,  loving  father  or  mother 
punishes  the  child.  I  do  not  say  that  parents  necessarily  take  the 
"  rod  ;"  but  there  is  a  rod  in  no.  There  is  a  rod  in  a  frown.  The 
parent  inflicts  pain  upon  the  child  in  order  to  di'ill  it ;  in  order  to  keep 
it  from  sin ;  in  order  to  develop  it  into  true  manliness.  And  it  ia 
because  parents  love,  that  they  let  the  child  suffer,  measuring  the 
suffering,  grading  it,  holding  it  back  to  just  the  proper  proportions, 
that  it  may  not  over-reach  the  end  it  has  in  view. 

We  see,  also,  that  where  suffering  is  inflicted  by  a  wise  and  lov- 
ing parent,  the  object  of  it  is  not  to  avenge  a  wrong  done  to  the 
parent.  The  object  of  suffering  is  two-fold — to  bring  a  motive  to 
bear  upon  the  child  which  shall  recover  it,  and  also  to  save  the  other 
children  from  being  brought  into  the  same  predicament  of  mischief 
Both  are  objects  of  love.  When  a  child  has  gone  vsrong,  if  a  parent 
is  angry  let  him  stand  off.  Never  punish  a  child  when  you  are  angiy. 
"  Well,"  you  say,  "  when  I  am  good-natured  I  cannot."  All  the  worse 
for  you  and  the  child.  No  justice  in  this  world  is  worthy  of  the  name 
of  justice  that  has  not  a  heart  of  pity.  There  is  no  right  in  any  human 
being  to  inflict  pain  to  satisfy  a  revengeful  impulse.  That  is  beastly, 
No  true  parent  inflicts  pain  upon  a  child  except  because  he  feels  that 
that  is  the  best  gift  he  can  confer  upon  that  child,  and  because,  iiu  • 
cidentally,  it  is  a  benefit  conferred  upon  every  other  child — for  some- 
times one  whipping  in  a  family  is  vicarious,  and  saves  a  multitude  of 
strokes.  The  point  is,  that  when  parents  love  theh  childi-en,  they 
inflict  pain  upon  them,  not  for  the  sake  of  avenging  themselves  for 
some  personal  slight  or  affront,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  children's  goo(3, 
and  the  good  of  the  children's  brothers  and  sisters. 

We  see,  also,  that  pity  in  the  family  of  a  wise,  upright,  large-minded 
man,  is  consistent  with  penalty.  The  parent  is  sorry  for  the  child 
that  he  is  punishing  ;  and  just  so  soon  as  the  punishment  has 
checked  the  evil  in  the  child,  the  parent  helps  to  cure  the  very  suffering 


THE  OOD  OF  PITT.  219 

■which  lie  himself  has  caused.  He  and  the  child  are  not  enemies 
Decause  they  are  at  the  two  ends  of  the  whip.  The  whip  is  held  by 
the  heart  at  one  end,  and  it  is  meant  to  reach  the  heart  at  the  other 
end — though  it  does  it  by  devious  ways.  In  the  administration  of 
pain  in  the  family,  love  administers  it ;  and  it  is  for  the  purposes  of  love 
that  it  is  administered.  And  when  it  has  wrought  its  end,  love  cures 
it.  So  that  from  beginning  to  end  it  is  love-work,  as  we  see  it  in  the 
ripest  and  best  natures  on  earth. 

In  our  endeavors  to  interpret  God,  we  should  remember  that  the 
Bible  draws  from  three  great  sources.  When  it  attempts  to  set  God 
before  our  minds,  it  di-aws  the  illustrations  of  divine  power,  or  the 
natural  attributes  of  God,  from  nature.  Storms,  fire,  floods,  the  seasons, 
mountains,  the  various  material  forces — these  are  all  marshalled  around 
about  the  name  of  God,  to  illustrate  his  natural  attributes.  And  they 
can  go  no  further  than  that. 

Wlien  God's  administration  over  the  race  and  nations  is  taught  in 
the  Bible,  the  figures  are  drawn  from  human  institutions  in  society. 
Rude  and  imperfect  as  they  are,  they  do  convey  to  us  the  idea  that  God 
is  a  being  who  is  governing  for  all  time  multitudes,  by  general  princi- 
ples, and  that  there  is  in  the  administration  of  general  principles  certain 
elements  that  make  it  impossible  for  God  to  do  some  things  that  might 
be  done  if  there  were  but  a  single  being  in  the  universe.  But  this  is 
as  fai'  as  we  ought  to  follow  civil  institutions  as  analogues. 

The  third  great  source  from  which  the  Bible  draws  its  illustrations 
and  figures  is  the  family  —  and  this  is  the  main  source.  If  you  will  take 
the  trouble  to  read  through  the  Old  and  the  New  Testaments,  and  take 
all  the  cases  in  which  God  is  called  "  Father,"  and  in  which  men  are 
called  "  sons ;"  if  you  will  take  all  the  illustrations  of  mai-riage  and 
parentage ;  if  you  will  take  all  the  household  illustrations ;  if  you  will 
take  all  the  titles  that  are  giA^en  to  God,  you  will  see  in  what  an  immense 
disproportion  God  has  been  i-epresented  to  us  in  the  Bible,  not  by  nature, 
not  by  civil  governments,  but  by  the  domestic  relations  of  men  in  the 
family.  The  Church  is  God's  household  ;  and  the  prayer  that  we 
learned  to  lisp  with  our  earliest  days ;  the  prayer  that  as  a  blessing  has 
hung  over  the  world  for  two  thousand  years,  and  that  still,  mornuig 
and  night,  is  breathed  by  myriad  infant  lips  —  "Our  Father  which  ait 
in  heaven  " — interprets  the  nature  of  God  from  the  side  of  the  family. 

Only  in  the  highest  form  of  the  life  of  the  family  can  we  approxi- 
mate to  the  liberty  which  there  is  in  love ;  to  the  compassion  which 
there  is  in  justice  :  to  Gods  soitow  for  suffering,  which  nevertheless 
he  permits.  You  find  that  whatever  you  see  in  the  administration  of 
divine  providence  by  way  of  infliction,  or  permission,  or  remedy  for 
suffering,  in  this  world,  arswers  to  something  that  you  have  seen  in 


/^' 


h^ 


220  TEE  GOD  OF  PITY. 

the  voluntaiy  administration  of  the  family  trust  by  parents  that  )OU 
know  to  be  wise,  just,  pure,  and  good.     Anything  that  conflicts  with 
that  may  safely  be  set  aside  as  the  fiction  of  man,  and  not  as  the 
revelation  of  the  Word  of  God- 
In  view  of  these  statements,  I  remark 

First.  Pity  on  the  part  of  God  will  not  prevent  the  infliction  of 
penalty  among  transgressors.  It  does  not  do  it  among  oui-selves.  It 
ought  not  to  do  it  among  ourselves.  We  did  not  need  to  be  taught 
that  God  would  punish.  All  nature  has  been  teaching  us  that.  Penalty 
is  the  thing  with  which  men  have  been  most  famUiar  in  this  world. 
Groans,  tears,  sixfiermg,  sickness,  sorrow,  death,  wars,  pestilences,  all 
the  agencies  of  the  heavens,  and  all  the  powers  of  the  earth,  have  been 
up  and  doing ;  and  we  did  not  need  to  have  it  told  us  that  there  was 
penalty  for  violated  law.  There  is  not  a  bone  that  does  not  call  out 
that.  There  is  not  a  nerve  nor  muscle  that  does  not  show  that.  There 
is  not  a  single  sin  in  human  history  that  does  not  teach  that.  What 
we  need  to  have  taught  us  is  that  sufiering  is  not  brutal ;  that  it  is  not 
unregulated ;  that  it  is  for  a  moi-al  end.  Above  all,  we  need  to  have  it 
taught  us  that  God,  who  permits  and  inflicts  the  sufiering,  does  not 
hate  ;  is  not  cruel ;  is  not  infernal ;  is  not  devUish.  We  need  to  be 
taught  that  it  is  possible  for  a  Being  to  permit  sufiering  in  a  globe  like 
this,  and  yet  be  an  eminent  Lover.  It  is  this  teaching  that  we  need, 
and  it  is  this  that  we  have  got  in  the  revelation  of  Christ  in  the  New 
Testament.  It  is  the  disclosm-e  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these  teiTific 
scenes  in  the  history  of  the  world,  there  is  a  purpose  of  love  running 
through  them  from  beginning  to  end ;  that  there  is  a  remedial  nature 
given  to  them  ;  that  they  are  characterized,  not  by  vengence,  but  by 

love.     Listen : 

"  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  -w^hich  are 
sept  nnto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen 
gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not !  Behold  your  house  is  left 
unto  you  desolate.  For  I  say  unto  you,  Ye  shall  not  see  me  henceforth,  till  ye  shall  say, 
Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

A  doom  was  on  the  city ;  and  yet,  the  Saviour  wept  over  it,  and 
lamented  as  a  mother  laments  over  her  first-born  child.  God  permits 
sufiering  in  this  world,  he  inflicts  it ;  and  yet,  he  is  a  God  of  infinite 
love  and  mercy. 

Secondly.  Those  who  are  sufiering  the  just  consequences  of  then- 
sins  are  not  on  that  account  excluded  from  God's  pity.  When  God 
punishes,  he  does  not  feel  about  punishment  as  we  do.  We  bring  our 
brutal  feelings  to  bear  to  drive  home  punishment.  God  punishes  vsdth 
great  compassion  and  pity  while  he  punishes,  and  with  great  mercy 
in  store  for  us,  if  only  we  knew  how  to  avail  om-selves  of  it.  We  must 
take  pain  here. 


THE  GOD  OF  PITT.     .  221 

The  remedial  importance  of  this  truth,  and  the  pei-version  of  our 
ideas  respecting  it,  demand  that  we  should  consider  a  little  more  in 
detml  the  matter  that  while  God  inflicts  suiferino:  in  cleansing  men 
fi'om  their  sins,  they  are  not  on  that  account  excluded  fi-om  his  pity. 

(yonsider  how  impossible  it  is  to  infer  anything  from  the  lower  cre- 
ation of  the  feelings  of  God.  Consider  the  way  in  which  society  treats 
criminals.  Consider  the  way  in  which  individual  men  treat  those  who 
have  offended  against  them.  I  know  not  that  there  remains  in  society 
a  work  of  barbarism  greater  than  the  feeling  which  we  all  have — which 
you  have,  which  I  have,  which  everybody  has  who  has  not  been 
trained  out  of  it — toward  criminals.  Where  men  have  committed 
thefts,  robberies,  crimes,  great  violations ;  where  men  have  by  then* 
wrong  conduct  inflicted  suffering  on  others,  the  moment  it  is  under- 
stood, the  whole  community  rise  up  like  a  kennel  of  wild  beasts.  It 
may  be  said  that  this  is  an  um-egulated  impulse  of  justice ;  but  the  mo- 
ment a  crime  is  fastened  on  a  man,  there  comes  a  revolution  in  our 
thoughts  and  feelings  toward  him,  and  we  do  not  regard  him  as  be- 
longing to  the  human  race  any  more.  We  do  not  believe  that  we  are 
related  to  him  by  the  least  duty  of  humanity.  We  do  not  think  it  is  a 
sin  to  feel  toward  him  as  we  do  not  feel  toward  any  other  human  crea- 
tm-e.  And  when  his  crime  has  been  proved,  and  sentence  has  been 
passed  upon  him,  how  nobody  cares  because  he  is  disgraced !  How 
few  there  are  that  would  ever  shed  a  tear  because  so  noble  a  nature  as 
every  human  being  has  in  him  has  been  disfigured,  soiled,  and  prosti- 
tuted  to  cruelty  and  wrong !  How  men  feel,  "  Served  him  right ;" 
"Glad  of  it ;"  "Wish  the  penalty  had  been  a  hundi-ed  times  as  great!" 
Not  only  does  he  lose  his  civil  rights,  but  he  hai'dly  retains  so  much  as 
human  rights,  in  the  loose  and  careless  language  of  common  men. 

Look  at  the  jails  in  which  we  put  criminals.  Sometimes  Aiey 
are  fit  for  beasts  to  live  in,  but  mostly  not.  Our  jails,  taking  the  country 
thi-ough,  are  a  disgi-ace  to  a  civilized  world  and  a  civilized  community. 
In  then-  baiTenness,  they  are  scarcely  less  than  instruments  by  which 
nature  is  allowed  to  torture  men  for  then*  crimes.  When  I  go  back  in 
history  to  see  what  justice  has  taken  upon  itself  to  do ;  when  I  think 
of  the  base  trials,  and  cruel  tortures  in  England,  from  whose  loins  we 
came,  which  hardly  ceased  within  the  memory  of  our  fathers  ;  when  I 
think  of  the  hideous  imprisonments  and  unutterable  wickednesses  which 
have  been  committed  by  justice,  I  sometime  think  justice  in  this  world, 
as  it  has  been  administered  by  fallable  men,  has  been  more  heinous  and 
more  outrageous  in  the  sight  of  God,  than  the  crimes  which  it  sought 
to  punish.  When  the  last^day  books  shall  be  opened,  those  will  not 
be  the  worst  books  which  shall  show  you  the  bagnio  and  the  stew  ; 
those  will  not  be  the  worst  books  that  show  you  the  pilferer's  and  the 


222  TEE  GOD  OF  PITY. 

robber's  liistoiy:  those  will  be  the  worst  books  that  ehow  you  w^hal 
Christian  churches  have  done,  and  what  organized  civil  justice  has 
done ;  that  show  you  the  horrible  tortures  and  cruelties  that  have  been 
inflicted  upon  men.  Heaven,  in  its  very  happiness,  will  stand  aghast  at 
the  reflection  and  revelation  of  such  gigantic  cruelties  committed  by 
man  upon  man. 

And  although  we  have  purged  the  organizations  of  civil  society 
from  such  overt  cruelties,  yet  hear  how  men  talk  when  the  community 
is  roused  up  about  a  man.  See  how  utterly  devoid  they  are  of  humanity 
and  pity.  So  intense  are  men  in  expressing  then-  horror  and  indigna- 
tion, that  they  tm"n  remorsely  against  theu'  fellow-men.  As  wounded 
wolves  are  said  to  be  turned  upon  by  the  rest  of  the  flock,  and  torn  to 
j)ieces,  so  men  that  have  done  wrong  are  turned  upon,  and  cast  down, 
and  rent  and  torn,  by  the  rest  of  the  community.  If  you  want  to  know 
what  hell  is,  go  and  hear  men  talk  of  fresh  crime  and  fresh  criminals. 

Here  and  there  men  are  to  be  found  that  feel  sorrow  and  pity,  but 
they  are  regarded  as  men  of  no  souls.  "  Do  you  not  care  for  the  com- 
munity V  say  men.  "  Do  you  not  care  for  law  and  integrity  ?  What  kind 
of  a  man  are  you,  to  plead  for  a  man  on  whom  society  has  justly  put 
its  branding-u'on  ?"  And  when  men  see  the  red  hot  branding-iron  put 
upon  the  brow  of  a  criminal,  and  hear  the  flesh  crackle,  they  think  it  is 
sweet  incense  before  God,  and  that  justice  is  appeased. 

When  a  man  comes  out  of  prison,  where,  it  may  be,  he  has  been 
justly  confined,  do  men  turn  to  him  like  a  brother  to  a  brother  ?  Let 
a  brother  go  wrong  in  his  youthful  days,  and  have  you  not  a  brother's 
heart?  Let  him  come  back,  after  some  years  of  experience  in  vice,  weak, 
worn  out,  dilapidated,  and  say  to  you,  "  Oh !  my  brother,  I  have  been 
all  wrong ;  I  have  sufiered  much,  and  I  have  learned  much  :  give  me  a 
chance  ;  give  me  a  shelter ;  give  me  bread ;  give  me  sympathy,  that  I 
may  save  the  last  of  my  life,  having  wildly  thrown  away  the  begin- 
ning, "  and  would  you  not  have  a  brother's  heart  ?  Would  you  not 
say,  "  Oh  !  brother,  all  that  I  have  is  thine.  My  purity  shall  be  your 
shelter;  my  reputation  shall  be  yoin-  shield;  and  my  house  shall  be 
your  castle.  Only  come  back  to  me  as  you  were  when  you  and  I  were 
boys  together,  and  whatever  is  mine  shall  be  yours  f  But  do  we  take 
men  back  from  jail  in  such  a  spirit  as  tliat  ?  What  if  they  are  not  re- 
formed? I  do  not  think  jails  and  state  prisons  are  apt  to  reform  anybody 
— certainly  not  while  such  monstrous  outrages  continue,  as  when  these 
places  of  punishment  are  put  up  at  auction  and  sold  for  political  favor, 
and  when  all  sorts  of  men  are  for  commercial  i^urposes  set  to  control 
them.  Men  are  treated  by  then-  fellow  men,  not  for  reformatory  pur- 
poses, but  for  social  and  commercial  thrift,  or  some  political  emolument. 
And  is  the  administration  of  such  a  system  in  the  community  likely  to 


THE  GOD  OF  PITT.  223 

reform  men  ?  When  I  see  the  disparity  there  is  between  sentences  r 
when  I  see  how  a  man  in  one  county,  for  stealing  a  horse,  is  sentenced 
for  five  years,  and  another  man,  in  another  county,  for  a  crime  ten 
times  more  hideous,  is  sentenced  for  only  two  years  i  when  I  see  one 
man  sent  up  for  ten  years,  and  another  for  five,  for  the  same  thing ; 
when  I  see  that  pai-ty  politics  can  clear  a  man  in  one  county,  and  con- 
demn a  man  in  another  county ;  when  I  think  of  the  feelings  that  men 
cany  with  them  in  prisons,  and  of  the  efiects  of  then-  treatment,  I  can- 
not see  much  chance  for  them  to  reform.  Anything  but  a  prison  for 
reformation,  it  seems  to  me,  in  this  world. 

And  yet,  when  men  come  out  of  prisons,  how  does  society  turn 
away  from  them,  and  say,  "  Eh  !  jail-bhd  ;  I  don't  want  him." 

Such  a  man  once  told  me  his  story.  He  had  unconsciously,  by  the 
exigencies  of  his  life,  been  di'awn  into  the  chculation  of  counterfeit 
money.  By  the  way,  there  is  a  gi-eat  deal  of  that  done  by  men  who  do 
not  make  a  business  of  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  personal !  For  a  man 
to  buy  counterfeit  money  on  purpose  to  circulate  it  is  a  criminal  oflence  ; 
but  if  a  man  in  regular  business  finds  that  ten  dollars  have  been  passed 
on  him,  what  does  he  say,  to-morrow,  when  you  ask  him,  "  Where  is 
that  ten  dollars,"  but  this:  "I  guess  I  let  it  slide f  Now,  in  law  and 
in  morals  that  man  is  a  couterfeiter,  though  men  do  not  think  so. 

This  man  had  served  out  his  time,  behaving  so  well  as  to  gain  the 
approbation  of  every  officer  in  the  prison ;  and  he  came  back  to  New 
York.  He  did  not  attempt  to  hide  his  history.  He  was  willing  to  do 
anything.  He  had  commercial  talent  and  tact.  He  gave  me  a  history 
of  his  reception  from  store  to  store  by  his  old  associates.  Everybody 
felt  as  though  he  had  a  lothesome  disease  upon  him.  Everybody 
suspected  him.  Nobody  was  willing  to  trust  him.  After  he  had  tried 
a  yeai-  to  find  something  to  do,  discouraged  and  well-nigh  heart-broken 
as  he  was,  the  strongest  temptations  were  held  out  to  him  by  his  old 
confederates  to  go  into  a  life  of  dishonesty.  They  would  show  him 
friendliness.  And  he  said  to  me,  "  I  receive  sympathy,  Mr.  Beecher, 
from  none  but  the  worst  folks,  I  receive  nothing  but  unkindness  and 
suspicion  from  the  best  folks.     What  am  I  going  to  do  ?" 

Oh,  men  !  are  you  Christians  ?  Is  the  heart  of  a  Christian  commu- 
nity so  utterly  barren  of  sympathy  and  pity  that  after  a  man  has  done 
wrong,  and  sufiered  the  penalty  of  it,  and  wants  to  do  right,  he  might 
starve  in  your  streets,  and  die,  and  the  stones  be  as  piteous  as  your 
hearts  are  toward  hun  ?  And  are  you  followers  of  God,  who  xnticth 
those  tJiat  fear  him,  like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children  f 

Consider  how  men  talk  about  wicked  men  when  once  they  are 
down,  and  are  suffering.  You  need  not  go  fir  to  hear  it.  It  is  in  your 
ears  almost  every  day,  upon  one  or  another  occasion.     A  man  that  ha? 


224  TEE  OOB  OF  PITY. 

been  doing  wrong,  has  been  convicted.  "  I  am  glad  of  it,"  says  one. 
"But,"  says  another,  "  his  whole  family  will  suffer."  "They  ought 
to  suffer."  "But  he  was  neglected  and  over-tempted."  Ah  !  none  of 
your  mawkish  charity.  It  is  all  a  mush  of  magnanimity,  this  talking 
about  wicked  men  in  such  a  way.  It  is  a  sacrifice  of  justice."  Says 
another  man,  "  I  would  like  to  pull  the  halter."  "  He  has  made  pain 
enough  in  this  world,"  says  another.  "  Now  let  him  taste  a  little  of 
his  own  drink,"  says  another.  Another  says,  "  He  has  spilled  bloody 
and  every  di'op  in  his  veins,  if  it  had  a  separate  life,  ought  to  be 
killed."     "Let  him  sup  horror  to  his  fill,"  says  another. 

Now,  I  do  not  say  that  the  man  ought  not  to  be  punished ;  but  I 
do  say,  that  all  those  feelings  ai'e  expressions  of  the  wild  beast  that  is 
in  you,  and  not  of  the  divinity.  You  have  no  business  to  have  any 
such  avenging  feelings.  They  may  be  excused  in  the  first  tumult  of 
detection,  or  in  the  wild  struggle  of  arrest ;  but  the  moment  the 
criminal  is  safely  handed  over  to  justice,  no  man  has  a  right  to  pursue 
him  with  an  avenging  feeling,  or  with  the  love  of  cruelty.  That  is 
ungodly — certainly  unchristlike. 

That  there  is  a  certain  interest  which  men  ought  to  feel  in  the  arrest 
and  punishment  of  evil  doers,  I  affirm ;  but  I  also  declare  that  it  is  veiy 
liable  to  degenerate  into  a  most  dangerous  feeling.  No  man  has  a 
right  to  give  loose  to  his  own  personal  malign  j)assions,  and  then  call  it 
conscience  or  justice. 

"Why,  suppose  God  should  treat  us  as  we  treat  men  in  this  respect, 
wliat  would  become  of  any  one  of  us?  If  he  w^ere  strict  to  mark,  if 
he  were  strict  to  judge,  if  he  were  strict  to  condemn  and  to  punish, 
who  of  us  could  stand  for  one  single  moment  ?  We  are  the  very  men 
that  are  set  forth  in  the  parable,  where  the  debtor  goes  to  his  prince, 
and  says,  "  Have  compassion  on  me  :  I  have  nothing ;  but  wait,  and  I 
will  pay  thee  all."  He  had  compassion  on  him  ;  and  he  went  out  and 
found  a  fellow-servant  who  owed  him  ;  and  he  took  him  by  the  neck, 
and  said,  "  Pay  me  what  thou  owest."  And  his  fellow-servant  fell 
down  at  his  feet,  and  said,  "  Have  compassion  on  me,  wait,  and  I  w^iU 
pay  thee  all."  And  he  would  not,  but  hauled  him  to  jirison.  And 
when  the  lord  of  that  sei-vant  heard  what  he  had  done,  he  called  him 
and  said,  "Shouldst  thou  not  have  had  compassion  on  thy  fellow  ser- 
vant, since  I  had  compassion  on  thee?  By  as  much  as  you  have 
been  unfeeling  and  cruel  to  him,  you  shall  bear  cruelty  and  punishment 
yourself" 

Are  we  not  doing  the  same  thing?  Are  we  not  described  in  this 
parable  ?  Are  we  not  sinners  every  one  of  us.  And  are  there  not  d.an- 
gerous  pitfiills  that  any  of  us  may  plunge  into  at  an  unguarded  mo- 
ment ?      You  may  not  be  liable,  perhaps,  to  temptations  of  violence ; 


TEE  GOD  OF  PITT.  225 

but  then,  you  may  be  liable  to  temptations  of  avarice.  You  may  not 
be  liable  to  temptations  of  dishonesty  ;  but,  you  may  be  liable  to  temp- 
tations of  social  hilarity.  You  may  not  be  liable  to  bum  down  your 
neighbor's  house,  but  you  may  be  liable  to  di-unkenncss,  some  of  you. 
Some  of  you  may  not  be  liable  to  drunkenness,  but  you  may  be  liable 
to  lewdness.  Some  of  you  may  not  be  tempted  by  any  of  the  pas- 
sions, but  you  may  be  tempted  by  that  hard-hearted  selfishness  which 
makes  the  heart  like  the  desert  of  Sahara— sand,  sand,  sand,  without  a 
green  thing  in  it  ?  Who  is  there  that  can  rise  up  before  God  and  say, 
"  I  have  a  right  to  condemn,  for  I  have  never  sinned  "?  When  God 
says,  I  have  found  a  ransom  for  sinners,  who  shall  turn  himself  with 
bitter  and  vindictive  fury  upon  transgressors  ? 

Thirdly.  All  men  who  are  striving  to  live  aright  in  this  world, 
although  they  are  far  from  successful,  may  be  comforted  in  the  thought 
that  there  are  more  who  sympathize  with  them  than  they  know  or 
di-eam.  God  is  on  then-  side.  There  are  a  great  many  that  have  gone 
wrong,  who  feel  an  earnest  desu-e  to  go  right  again.  They  would  un- 
dei-take  it  if  they  thought  they  could  succeed  ;  but  it  seems  to  them  as 
though  everything  was  against  them.  No,  God  is  not  against  you.  I 
believe  that  a  simple  childlike  trust  in  God  will  go  further  to  save  a 
man  who  has  stumbled,  and  bring  him  back,  and  make  him  a  man,  than 
all  the  sympathy  and  succor  that  the  world  can  give.  Oh  !  that  I  could 
infix  that  inward  faith  in  men.  Oh !  that  I  could  make  men  who  have 
been  wicked  feel  that  God  -will  not  cast  them  ofi",  that  he  is  sony  for 
them,  and  that  while  he  punishes  them,  it  is  for  their  good,  and  not  for 
then-  destruction.     Oh  !  that  I  could  make  men  see  God  as  I  see  him. 

Take  the  reformation  of  the  prodigal  son.  The  young  man  went 
out  from  liis  father's  house,  and  spent  his  substance  in  riotous  living,  and 
came,  by  his  own  fault,  to  the  utmost  degradation ;  and  dming  all  these 
years  of  his  absence,  there  was  not  an  hour  in  which  he  was  absent 
from  his  father's  heart.  And  when,  by  his  misery,  and  not  by  his  filial 
love,  he  was  impelled  to  come  back  ;  when  actuated  by  the  lowest  mo- 
tives, and  not  by  the  highest,  he  said,  "I  will  go  home,  and  confess 
my  wrong,  and  may  be  my  father  will  let  me  work  for  him,  instead  of  ^ 
working  here  among  swine,  and  for  a  foreigner;  and  when  he  had 
staited,  and  was  yet  afar  off,  his  father  saw  him.  Oh,  a  father's  or  a 
mother's  eye  can  see  further  than  any  telescope  that  ever  art  invented. 
Years  had  changed  him.  Time  had  degraded  him.  In  place  of  the 
young,  foir-cheeked  boy  that  went  awaj"-,  here  was  a  haggard,  hollow- 
eyed,  ragged,  feeble,  way-worn,  dust-covered  man.  He  was  slouch 
ingly  drawing  near  to  his  father's  house.  And  yet,  though  he  was  afar 
off,  the  father  knew  him.  And  he  ran  to  meet  him — as  God  runs  a 
gr3at  way  to  meet  every  man  that  has  done  wi'ong,  and  wants  to  get 


226  TEE  OOD  OF  PITT. 

back  to  right.  And  when  the  son,  humble  and  penitent,  began  to 
make  his  jilea,  and  say,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and 
in  thy  sight,  and  I  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son,"  the  father 
did  not  let  hun  finish  it.  He  threw  his  arms  about  him.  He  forgave 
and  loved  hun.  Before  he  could  ask  to  be  taken  back,  he  took  him 
back.  And  he  royally  clothed  him,  and  put  sandals  on  his  feet,  and 
rings  on  his  hand. 

But  that  is  not  the  whole  story.  The  elder  brother  was  one  of 
those  men  who  never  went  wrong.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who 
never  had  appetites  or  passions,  and  who  never  stumbled.  And  when 
he  found  that  his  younger  brother  had  got  back,  he  did  not,  old  phari- 
see  of  a  brother  as  he  was,  think  a  word  of  his  younger  brother's  being 
recovered  from  damnation.  He  did  not  care  that  his  heart  was  going 
to  have  another  chance.  Nothing  of  that  sort.  But  he  said,  in  a  re- 
buking way  to  his  father,  "All  these  years  have  I  served  you,  and 
you  never  gave  me  a  kid.  You  never  did  anything  for  me.  But  now 
that  this  worthless  vagabond  has  got  home,  the  fatted  calf  must  be 
killed  for  him,  and  the  ring  must  be  put  on  his  hand !" 

Whenever  a  poor  storm-diiven  soul  tries  to  get  back,  there  are  just 
such  men  in  every  community,  who  stand  and  say,  "  I  thank  God  that 
I  never  sinned  so."  And  if  any  symi^athy  is  shown  toward  the  unfor- 
tunate one,  they  say,  "  This  is  just  the  way  to  make  ci'ime  easy." 

Oh  soul !  remember  your  Father  in  heaven.  Remember  that  God 
who  does  not  feel  as  man  feels.     And  that  you  may  believe  he  does 

not,  let  me  read  his  words : 

"  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  upon  him  while  he  is  near:  let  the 
wicked  ftirsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts ;  and  let  him  return  unto 
the  Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upo»  him ;  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly 
pardon." 

Oh,  royal  abundance ! 

"  For  my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways ;  saith  the 
Lord.  For  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your 
ways,  and  my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts." 

This  is  said  to  show  what  mercy  God  will  have  on  men  when  they 
will  only  break  away  from  their  sins,  and  turn,  and  come  to  him. 
There  is  no  such  port  on  the  whole  coast.  And  yet,  the  heart  of  God 
is  just  that  open  port  which  any  sinner  may  run  into,  day  or  night, 
without  a  pilot,  and  make  sure  anchorage. 

If  you  have  neither  father,  nor  mother,  nor  brother,  nor  sister  ;  if 
you  are  outcast,  you  have  a  God ;  and  a  God  that,  however  wicked  you 
have  been,  says  he  will  forgive  %  Oh  no,  that  is  not  the  way.  When 
a  poor  man  gives,  he  gives  according  to  what  he  has.  To  give  a  few 
pence  is  a  great  thing  for  a  poor  man.  But  his  neighbor,  who  is  bet- 
ter off,  says,  "I  will  give  a  dollar."  And  according  to  what  he  has, 
that  is  very  well.     But  a  man  over  the  way  says,  "  I  am  better  able 


THE  ODD  OF  PITT.  227 

than  they,  aud  I  am  going  to  give  twenty-five  dollars."  It  is  heai'd  of 
down  the  street  where  men  are  making  money  pretty  easy  and  pretty 
fast,  and  one  says,  "  I  will  give  a  hundred  dollars."  Another  says, 
"I  will  give  five  hundi-ed."  And  another — a  greathearted,  generous 
man — says,  "  I  will  put  down  a  hundi'ed  thousand." 

People,  talking  about  these  men,  say,  "  They  are  giving,  not  only 
according  to  their  means,  but  according  to  their  dispositions." 

Now,  Avhen  a  man  has  been  injm-ed,  and  you  are  the  man  that  has 
injured  him,  and  you  ask  his  forgiveness,  and  promise  him,  and  placate 
him,  by-and-by  he  says,  "  I  did  mean  to  have  my  revenge  out  of  you  ; 
but  as  you  acknowledge  your  fault,  I  will  just  let  you  go ;  but  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  I  do  not  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
you.  I  \f'A\  forgive  it,  but  I  cmiiiot  fo7' get  it."  That  is  one  way  of 
forgiving. 

Another  man,  a  little  higher  up  has  been  sinned  against ;  and  the 
offender  comes  to  him  and  asks  to  be  forgiven  ;  and  he  says,  "  It  is 
lucky  for  you  that  you  found  me  in  a  good-natured  hour.  I  will  for- 
give you ;  but  I  do  not  want  to  say  any  more  about  it.  Go,  poor 
devil,  and  don't  trouble  me  again."  That  is  a  little  better  ;  but  it  is  not 
altogether  comteous. 

Another  man  has  been  wronged  ;  and  when  the  offender  comes  to 
ask  forgiveness  of  him,  he  says,  '"  I  have  no  personal  feelings  against 
you.  I  think  you  did  me  a  great  wrong ;  and  yet,  the  only  thing  that 
hinders  me  from  forgiving  you,  is  the  idea  of  what  the  effect  of  domg  it 
too  easily  will  have  upon  the  community  and  the  government  and  the 
law."  On  the  whole,  being  in  a  metaphysical  state  of  benevolence,  he 
concludes  that  he  will  forgive  the  man.  And  that  case  involves  some 
higher  faculties  than  any  of  the  rest. 

Then  there  is  another  case.  Here  is  a  gi-eat-heaited,  kind  man.  A 
criminal  comes  to  him,  and  says,  "  I  am  here  to  confess  that  I  have 
done  Avi'ong,  and  to  beg  that  you  will  not  be  hard  with  me,  but  will 
forgive  me."  And  the  man  says,  "  Oh,  my  dear  fellow,  come  here. 
God  be  thanked  that  you  had  the  corn-age  to  come.  Forgive  you  ? 
Why  yes,  of  course  I  will.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Is  there  not 
something  ?  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have  come  back.  I  was  sony  that 
you  did  so  foolish  a  thing  ;  but  it  is  all  over  now.  Come  and  see  me 
again.  And  do  not  be  drawn  away  again.  Forgive  you  ?  My  good 
fellow,  I  love  you  better  than  ever.     And  let  me  help  you." 

Is  there  not  a  tUfterence  between  that  man's  forgiveness,  and  the 
forgiveness  of  these  other  men  ?  As  a  butler  gets  a  cork  out  of  a  bot- 
tle, so  men  forgive,  oftentimes. 

Now  if  a  man  forgives,  and  has  mercy,  what  does  God  mean  when 
he  says  he  will  "  abundantly  pai'don  ?"     Remember  that  it  is  God  who 


228  THE  GOD  OF  PITY. 

speaks,  infinite  in  power,  infinite  in  mercy,  infinite  in  love,  infinite  in 
empu-e  and  in  being.  What  is  "  abundance  "  in  such  an  one  as  that  ? 
And  when  God  says  tliat  if  a  man  will  come  back,  and  forsake  his  e"  i! 
thoughts  and  his  wicked  ways,  he  will  forgive  him,  and  "  abundantly  " 
have  mercy  on  him,  what  does  he  mean  ?  What  is  God's  abundance  ? 
Who  can  tell  what  that  clearance,  that  utter  wiping  out  of  sin,  is,  which 
God  promises  ? 

There  is  no  such  lover  as  God.  There  is  no  such  magnanimity  as 
there  is  in  God's  nature.  There  is  no  such  friend  as  God.  There  is 
no  such  harbor  or  refuge  as  his  bosom.  And  if  you  have  done  wi'ong, 
go  to  your  earthly  friend  if  you  will ;  but  go  to  God  by  all  means.  He 
is  loving,  he  is  gentle,  he  is  full  of  pity,  and  he  says,  "Like  as  a  fathej' 
pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  For  he 
knoweth  our  frame;  he  remembereth  that  we  are  but  dust."  "We  have 
not  a  high  priest  that  cannot  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  oiir  infir- 
mities, but  was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin. 
I-et  us  therefore  come  boldy  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  may 
obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need." 


THE  GOD  OF  PITT.  229 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

A-lmiglity  God,  thou  hast  taught  us  to  call  thee  by  the  name  of  Father.  Thou  hast 
Jispired  in  our  hearts  tba^  atfoction  which  children  feel  for  their  parents.  An  d  the  more  wo 
learn  the  things  that  are  right,  to  love  them,  and  that  are  true,  to  believe  them,  and  that 
are  lovely, to  rejoice  in  them,  the  more  easily  do  we  rise  to  thee ;  the  more  clear  and  comfort- 
ing is  the  conception  which  we  have  of  thy  nature ;  the  more  are  we  able  to  enter  into  thy 
presence  by  sympathy.  And  our  treasure  is  not  the  things  wHich  our  hands  have  built, 
and  not  tlie  things  which  we  have  gathered  around  about  us  of  comfort,  but  our  God.  We 
glory  in  thee;  in  thy  nature;  in  thy  disposition;  in  the  administration  of  thy  govern- 
ment; in  all  thy  thought  and  mercy  toward  us;  in  thy  love,  superominent  over  every 
other  attribute.  We  rejoice  in  thee;  and  in  this  joy  there  is  no  decline.  Nothing  can 
rob  us  of  thee.  Who  shall  pluck  us  out  of  thine  hand  ?  Who  shall  separate  between  us 
and  thee  ?  What  power  is  there  that  is  like  thine  ?  And  in  thee  what  power  is  there 
that  is  like  love  ?  And  if  when  we  were  enemies  thou  didst  love  us,  how  much  more 
now  that  we  are  friends  ?  And  if  whilst  yet  we  were  alienated  from  thee  thou  didst  give 
thine  only  begotten  Son,  and  he  fi'eely  gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  us,  shall  he  not  also, 
with  it,  freely  give  us  everything  that  we  need  for  living  again  ?  What  though  our  sins 
do  rise  up  before  us,  are  they  so  great  as  thy  mercies  are  ?  What  though  we  remember 
the  open  door  of  temptation  through  which  our  adversaries  full  often  have  run,  are  they 
mightier  than  thou  art?  Is  there  in  all  the  universe  the  evil  that  is  so  strong  as  the 
Spirit  of  God?  Is  there  a  providence  of  mischief  that  can  measure  itself  against  thy 
providence  of  mercy  which  thou  art  administering  ?  Cleanse  our  understandings  of  ser- 
vile fear;  but  till  them  with  filial  fear.  May  we  reverence  thee,  and  draw  near  with 
humble  boldness.  May  we  have  that  familiarity  which  affection  begets  in  the  soul. 
And  while  we  know  thy  greatness  and  tremble  at  thy  purity,  give  us  the  access  of  chil- 
dren, that  we  may  come  up  to  thy  very  feet,  and  look  up  into  thy  face,  and  plead  thy 
love  as  the  reason  of  our  confidence  and  our  hope.  For,  if  thou  still  dost  love  us,  thou 
dost  pity  us.  All  our  temptations,  and  all  our  downfalls,  and  all  our  difficulties,  and  all 
our  darkness  shall  at  last  fly  away,  and  we  shall  have  victory,  in  that  blessed  land  where 
there  shall  be  no  more  struggle,  and  no  more  trial,  and  no  more  sorrow  nor  crying, 
fore  verm  ore. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  this  morning,  to  every  one  in  thy  presence,  this  sense  of 
God  with  him.  Speak  unto  every  troubled  soul  the  words  of  peace.  Draw  near  and 
sanctify  to  each  one  the  dispensations  of  thy  providence.  Thou  art  dealing  with  eveiy 
one  according  to  thine  own  wisdom;  but  with  all  for  their  good.  To  some  there  is  given 
largeness  of  mercies  and  happiness;  to  some  thou  art  giving  darkness  and  bitter  pains; 
some  thou  art  chastising;  some  thou  art  caressing;  thy  face  is  hid  from  some;  thy  face 
shines  out  upon  others;  and  all  of  them  are  dealt  with  in  love.  So  do  we  deal  with  our 
children.  Bring  home  to  us  the  preciousness  of  the  conviction  that  thou  art  a  Father 
dealing  with  us  in  love  and  in  mercy,  even  when  we  are  in  darkness,  in  pain  and  in 
tribulation.  While  we  are  tossing  in  the  night  upon  the  sea,  and  crying  out  for  fear,  oh, 
speak,  and  say  to  everyone,  "It  is  I;  bo  not  afraid."  Come  upon  the  troubled  sea 
come  through  our  darkness,  O  thou  Saviour,  to  help  our  souls,  and  to  help  us  in  this 
mortal  life,  seeking  to  save  our  souls.  And  grant  that  every  one  who  is  burdened  this 
morning,  and  every  one  who  is  cast  down  by  sorrow,  and  every  one  who  is  in  doubt  and 
perplexity,  and  all  that  are  remorseful,  may  look  up  and  behold  thee  very  near  to  them, 
a  present  help  in  time  of  trouble. 

Vouchsafe,  we  beseech  of  thee,  thy  mercies  to  all  those  who  are  gathered  in  our 
thoughts,  and  who  belong  to  us— the  absent  members  of  our  families;  all  that  are  in  sick- 
ness; all  that  watch  by  sick  beds;  all  that  are  in  trouble  and  weariness;  those  that  in  thy 
providence  are  removed  from  us  on  various  errands.  Spread  abroad  thy  hands  this  day, 
and  speak  peace  to  our  beloved.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  not  only 
ours,  but  all  who  lie  around  about  us,  and  who  are  blood  of  our  blood,  and  flesh  of  our 
flesh— the  erring,  the  sin-sick,  the  outcast,  the  despised  and  the  rejected.     We  pray  that 


230  THE  GOD  OF  PITY. 

we  may  have  mercy  given  to  us;  and  as  thou  didst  how  down  thy  heavens  for  the  moat 
despised  and  the  worst,  so  may  we  still  keep  a  heart  of  love  and  mercy  for  the  despised 
and  the  outcast. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing,  to-day,  upon  all  thy  Churches 
Purify  them  in  word,  in  doctrine,  in  administration.  Grant  that  all  who  seek  thee  sin- 
cerely, with  whatever  error  of  understanding,  may  still  have  some  portion  of  thy  beams 
falling  upon  them,  and  that  they  may  have  some  fruit  of  the  summer  of  thy  love  in  their 
souls.  And  may  those  who  are  preaching  to-day  throughout  our  land,  everywhere,  have 
thee  on  their  side.  Hear  those  ignorant  men  who  are  trying  to  preach  to  the  ignorant. 
Let  the  little  light  which  they  have  shine  in  the  souls  that  are  darkened,  that  they  may 
know  of  the  redemption  of  Jesus  Christ.  Be  with  those  that  try  to  teach  the  scattered 
and  the  outcast,  gathering  them  together  in  Sabbath  schools,  to-day;  and  may  they  do 
their  Master's  work,  in  their  Master's  spirit.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  be  with 
those  who  are  in  far  distant  states  and  territories,  in  sickness,  in  weakness,  in  poverty, 
in  neglect,  unhelped  and  ensuecored.  Still  may  they  be  able  to  endure  for  Christ's 
sake,  and  with  invincible  faith  carry  the  tidings  of  the  cross  to  every  living  creature. 

We  pray  for  all  our  schools  and  colleges  and  seminaries  of  learning.  We  pray  that 
they  may  be  sanctified  and  purified,  and  that  intelligence  may  go  forth  throughout  all 
our  land. 

And  that  this  great  people  may  be  virtuous,  not  only  lift  them  up  in  outward 
strength,  but  give  them  yet  more  mightily  that  spirit  of  streugtli  which  shall  make  them 
more  just,  more  moderate,  more  true.  And  may  this  nation  serve  thee,  and  serve  their 
fellow  men,  that  all  the  earth  may  see  thy  salvation.  Hasten  that  blessed  day.  These 
eyes  shall  not  see  it  here;  but  grant  that  wo  may  see  it  from  above,  in  clearer  lines,  in 
brighter  light,  and  in  sweeter  effulgence. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMON 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  us  in  the  word  of  truth.  Com 
fort  and  cheer  us  by  it.  Oh  !  the  dark  abyss  of  ignorance  !  Oh !  the  swirling  malignity 
of  human  passions !  Oh  !  the  hell  that  is  upon  earth  !  Who  shall  deliver  from  the  cruelty 
of  men?  Who  shall  deliver  from  the  wickedness  of  our  own  cruelties  and  hard-hearted- 
ness?  Thou  art  God.  Thou  sittest  in  the  sweet  love  of  heaven,  and  art  all  the  time 
purifying  the  earth.  As  winds  sweeping  through  cities  and  towns  drive  off  the  foul 
vapors  which  human  bodies  have  generated;  so  thy  great  love  is  sweeping  through  the 
earth  and  cleansing  it  from  the  cruelties  and  malignities  of  the  human  heart;  blessed 
be  thy  name,  thou  Sovereign  of  all  recovering  love!  Oh.  Jesus  !  sanctify  us.  Make  us 
a  little  like  thee.  Make  us  sweeter  than  men  are  in  their  best  estate  of  nature,  that  we 
may  represent  thy  tenderness  and  gentleness  and  mercy. 

Have  compassion,  we  beseech  of  thee,  on  the  poor,  the  outcast,  the  unfriended,  the 
imprisoned,  the  condemned.  Deliver  them  from  the  cruelty  of  men's  hands,  and  from 
the  freezing  coldness  of  men's  thoughts.  Grant  that  we  may  know  how  to  temper  justice 
with  humanity  and  mercy,  and  that  we  may  know  how  to  raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 
forgive  the  sinful,  and  live  so  that  at  last — at  last — when  our  mistakes  are  done,  and  our 
Bins  are  passed,  we  may  hear  thee  say,  with  open  arms.  Come — welcome. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


Sin  Against  the  Hoiy  Ohost. 


INVOCATION. 

Accept  our  morning  thanks,  most  gracious  God,  our  Heavenly  Father, 
and  draw  us  to  thee  by  the  persuasion  of  thine  own  goodness  upon  us,  that 
we  may  think  beyond.  And  in  thee  may  we  see  the  light.  Accept  the  of- 
fering of  devotion  and  the  fellowship  of  song  at  our  hands.  Accept  the 
service  of  the  sanctuary,  and  bless  us  in  it.  In  all  the  effort  of  instruction, 
and  in  every  service  of  devotion,  may  we  have  that  guidance  into  all  truth 
which  comes  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  may  this  day  be  sanctified  wholly 
to  us,  in  the  sanctuary  and  in  our  homes,  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Re- 
deemer.   Amen. 


SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 


"  "Wherefore  I  say  unto  you,  all  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men  ; 
but  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not  be  torgiveu  unto  men.  And  whusoevei 
Bpeaketh  a  word  against  the  Son  of  man,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him;  but  -n-hosoever  spea^est 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  not  be  forgiven  him,  neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  the  world 
to  come."— Matt.  xLL  3L,  33. 


There  is  very  much  anxiety  and  very  Httle  knowledge  on  this  im- 
portant subject.  After  a  hopeless  essay  at  understanding  it,  many 
persons  give  it  up  in  confusion,  and  do  not  try  to  understand  it.  They 
think  it  is  mysterious.  It  is  neither  mysterious  nor  obscure,  in  its  ti-ue 
and  inward  meaning ;  that  is,  when  the  truth  has  once  been  brought 
out,  it  will  be  found  to  be  a  truth  which  belongs  to  the  teachincr  of 
the  whole  Scripture,  from  beginning  to  end.  It  seems,  at  first  sight, 
as  if  there  were  a  general  declaration  that  all  sin,  and  all  ordinary 
blasphemy,  was  to  be  forgiven,  even  when  it  Avas  applied  to  the  Son  of 
God ;  but  that  there  was  a  peculiai"  reason  of  sacredjiess  why,  in  regard 
to  the  third  person  of  the  Trinity — the  Holy  Spuit — blasphemy  was 
unforgivable  ;  as  if  it  assumed  in  that  direction  a  malignancy  of 
guiltiness ;  or,  as  if  there  were  some  prominent  glory  in  the  Holy 
Spirit  which  made  it  more  culpable.  Either  of  these  ways  of  looking 
at  it  aggravates  the  difficulty,  increases  the  number  of  questions  to  be 
asked,  and  carries  us  further  from  any  true  ground  of  solution. 

The  particular  occasion  on  which  this  discoui'se  was  uttered,  wiU 
show  us  the  clue  to  its  explanation.  The  twelfth  chapter  of  Matthew 
gives  in  detail  the  account  of  what  might  be  called  our  Master's  con- 
flict with  his  enemies — a  conflict  waged,  not  by  controversy,  but  by 
his  beneficent  miracles.  For  instance,  there  was  the  controversy  as  to 
whether  it  was  lawful  for  him  to  show  mercy  on  the  Sabbath  day  by 
healing ;  or,  in  other  words,  whether  it  was  right  for  him  to  use  the 
Sabbath  day  rationally,  and  for  men's  benefit,  instead  of  using  it  as  a 
yoke  and  a  shackle. 

Then  came  up  the  controversy  about  the  man  with  the  withered 
hand  ;  and  Jesus  healed  him  on  the  spot.  Every  man  who  has  a  manly 
heart,  whenever  he  sees  any  course  that  does  real  good  to  his  fellow 
men,  if  he  be  rational,  if  he  be  just,  if  he  be  wholesome,  will  ackuowl- 

SuvDAY  MoKxixG,  Dec.  19,  1869.  Lesson  :  ISA.  T.  1—25.  Hvsixs  (Plymouth  Collection) 
New.  (i39,  755,  690. 


232  Sm  A  GAINST  THE  EOL  Y  GHOST. 

edo-e  at  least  the  mercy  and  kindness ;  but  the  Pharisees,  when  they 
saw  Christ  heal  this  man,  overthrowing  them  on  every  ground,  were 
totally  insensible  to  the  kindness  and  mercy.  They  "  went  out  and 
held  a  counsel  against  him,  how  they  might  destroy  him,"  and  "  Jesus 
knew  it,"  and  "  withdrew  himself." 

He  was,  in  a  second  instance,  brought  into  the  presence  of  "  one 
possessed  with  a  devil,  blind  and  dumb,  and  he  healed  him,  insomucln 
that  the  blind  and  dumb  both  spake  and  saw ;  and  all  the  people  were 
amazed,  and  said.  Is  not  this  the  son  of  David !  But  when  the  Phar- 
isees heard  it,  they  said,  This  fellow  doth  not  cast  out  devils  but  by 
Beelzebub,  the  prince  of  the  devils.  Jesus  knew  theii-  thoughts,  and 
said  unto  them.  Every  kingdom  divided  against  itself  is  brought  to 
desolation,  and  every  city,  or  house  divided  against  itself  shall  not 
stand.  And  if  Satan  cast  out  Satan,  he  is  divided  against  himself; 
how  shall  then  his  kingdom  stand?" — and  more  to  the  same  point. 
And  then  it  is  that  he  says,  "  Wherefore,  I  say  unto  you,  all  maimer 
of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men,  but  the  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  shall  not  be  forgiven  unto  men." 

The  facts  in  these  cases  cannot  be  evaded.  Here  were  God's  works 
manifested  both  by  the  power  required,  and  by  its  beneficence.  These 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  looked  upon  the  disclosure  without  the  slightest 
sympathy  either  with  its  mercy  or  with  its  divinity.  They  coolly  said, 
"  It  is  Beelzebub  that  helps  him." 

If  that  speech  had  been  a  passionate  parry  in  a  fierce  debate,  it 
would  have  been  pardonable  ;  but  it  indicated  a  deliberate  state  of  mind, 
a  degree  of  moral  corruption,  which  turned  things  entu-ely  about.  It 
indicated  that  they  had  arrived  at  such  a  state  of  incurable  per- 
version that  when  they  looked  upon  moral  goodness  in  a  concrete  form, 
illumined  by  the  divine  Spu-it,  they  called  it  evil.  They  were  hope- 
less. Then-  moral  sense  had  become  thoroughly  disorganized,  degraded, 
perverted,  past  cure. 

With  these  fixcts  before  us,  we  begin  to  have  an  insight  into  what 
this  passage  means. 

If  the  faculty  or  organ  by  which  a  man  discerns  good  and  evil 
has  become  so  perverted  that  it  fails  in  its  proper  uses  ;  if  a  man's 
moral  fiiculties  are  so  perverted  that  Uie  Holy  Spirit,  who  is  the  source 
of  inspiration,  and  who  gives  forth  that  light  and  stimulus  by  which 
the  moral  sense  acts,  is  set  aside  and  contemned;  then  that  man's 
constitution  is  so  corrupted  that  his  moral  judgment  may  be  said 
to  be  gone.  If  under  circumstances  which  bring  upon  a  man's  soul 
the/ull  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  cleansing  the  understanding,  and 
giving  life  to  the  conscience,  he  resolutely  and  deliberately  reviles  God's 
tnith  and  goodness,  it  is  a  fatal  symptom.      There  can  be  no  reaction 


SIN  A  GAINST  THE  UOL  7  GHOST.  233 

from  such  a  condition.      He  has  gone  so  far  that,  as  a  mere  matter  of 
fact,  his  case  will  assuredly  prove  fatal. 

While  this  particular  mode  of  presenting  the  truth  makes  this  doc- 
trine seem  new  and  special,  the  real  thing  which  the  Lord  aimed  at  is 
over  and  over  again  set  forth  in  the  Scriptures  both  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  of  the  New.  It  is,  in  short,  the  danger  of  a  perversion  of 
the  moral  sense,  by  which  good  shall  become  evil,  and  evil  shall  become 
good.  In  the  passage  Avhich  I  read  in  the  opening  service  this  morn- 
ing, from  the  5th  chapter  of  Isaiah,  at  the  20th  verse,  it  is  said,  "  Woe 
unto  them  that  call  evil  good  "—think  it  is  so-—"  and  good  evil  "—hate 
it  as  a  gi-eat  many  men  do  ;  "  that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for 
darkness ;  that  put  bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter  !" 

This  is  precisely  the  same  spirit  of  moral  perversion  by  which  the 
qualities  of  things  are  changed,  and  that  which  is  base  and  undermin- 
ing and  soul-destroying  is  thought  to  be,  and  is  pronounced  to  be,  good; 
by  which  vices  are  justified,  and  called  virtuous,  and  natural,  and 
right ;  by  which  vhtues  are  degraded,  and  called  puritanic,  and  stig- 
matized by  every  name  of  reproach.  Woe  unto  those  that  turn  things 
end  for  end,  so  that  that  which  ought  to  be  dark,  and  is  dark,  shall  be 
praised  as  light  and  beautiful  and  glorious ! 

"  He  that  saith  unto  the  wicked,"  declares  inspii-ation  in  another 
place,  "  Thou  art  righteous,  him  shall  the  people  cm'se.  Nations  shall 
abhor  him." 

"This,"  saith  the  Master,  "is  the  condemnation,  that  light  is  come 
into  the  world,  and  men  love  darkness  rather  than  light." 

Again  he  saith,  "  If  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness,  how 
great  is  that  darkness  !" 

If  that  judgment,  that  moral  sense,  by  which  you  are  to  discern 
between  good  and  evil,  which  is  to  be  the  eye  of  the  soul,  and  guide 
it,  is  so  peryerted  that  the  very  light  that  is  lit  in  your  bosom  becomes 
dark,  how  profound  is  that  darkness !     It  is  night  without  a  morning. 

The  apostle  Paul,  in  Romans,  says,  "And  even  as  they  did  not 
like  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,  God  gave  them  over  to  a  repro- 
bate miud." 

Tliis  phraseology  is  more  exactly  in  accordance  with  the  psychological 
facts  as  they  actually  occur.  As«they  did  not  like  to  retain  God,  in  his 
enlightening,  restraining,  pmifying  influences,  he  let  them  alone,  and 
"gave  them  over"  to  this  perverted,  "reprobate  mind." 

These  are  but  single  specimens,  such  as  abound  all  the  way  through 
the  Scripture.  This  very  perversion  of  a  man's  inward  moral  sense, 
under  circumstances  in  which  it  is  stimulated  and  developed  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  this  perversion  of  a  man's  moral  sense 
ttnder  circumstances  which  shut  him  off  from  true  beneficence,  from 


234  SIN  AGAINST  TEE  HOLY  GHOST. 

puiity,  from  nobility,  and  ally  him  to  things  which  are  base  and  wicked, 
is  one  of  the  most  dangerous,  and,  as  I  think  it  will  appear  in  the  sequel, 
one  of  the  most  common,  of  the  tendencies  which  set  in  upon  a  man. 

This  comprehensive  sin,  then,  which,  as  I  shall  show  more  in  detail, 
is  not  a  single  act,  but  a  state  of  mind,  involves  a  real  perversion  of  the 
ground  and  root  of  the  moral  nature  in  man,  a  perversion  of  the  great 
facts  in  human  conduct  of  good  and  evil,  and  the  necessity  of  revolting 
from,  and  blaspheming,  that  divine  Sphit  —  the  Holy  Ghost — which 
gives  to  the  soul  its  light  and  its  stimulus.  When  completed,  this 
state  sets  a  man  at  variance  with  his  own  nature,  with  the  truths  of  a 
viituous  life,  and  with  God,  the  author  of  spirit-life.  And  so,  Christ 
declares  that  he  who  speaks  against  the  Son — that  is,  the  Son  of  his 
humiliation,  walking  as  a  man  among  men — opposing  him  hastily, 
blindly,  may  be  forgiven  ;  but  that  no  man  can  oppose  the  Holy  Ghost, 
that  shines  upon  his  own  moral  consciousness,  thus  delibei'ately  going 
against  his  own  inward  moral  convictions,  and  be  forgiven.  No  man 
will  who  is  recoverable.  No  man  will  until  he  has  gone  so  far  doAvn 
that  he  is  given  over,  it  may  be,  to  a  "reprobate  mind." 

From  this  explanation  we  are  prepared  to  go  on  with  some  more 
definite  points. 

1.  This  is  not  a  sin  which  one  can  commit  by  accident,  and  without 
knowing  it.  I  say  this  as  an  alleviation  to  multitudes  of  persons  who 
are  in  great  distress  and  torment  They  are  afraid  they  have  committed 
the  unpardonable  sin.  When,  or  how,  they  do  not  knoAV^  It  is  a 
vague  impression  in  their  mind,  that  there  is  some  such  sin  ;  and  they 
seem  to  think  it  is  a  special  act.  A  man  says,  "It  might  have  been 
some  moment  of  outrageous  anger,  when  I  blasphemed  everything 
above  and  below,  that  I  committed  the  unpardonable  sin."  No,  the 
unpardonable  sin  is  not  a  single  act,  but  a  comprehensive  state  of  mind. 
That  is,  a  sin  which  applies  to  the  whole  condition  to  which  a  man  has 
brought  himself  by  repeated  perversions,  and  in  which  you  may  say 
his  moral  condition  is  broken  down. 

No  man  ever  becomes  dissipated  at  once.  No  man,  no  matter  what 
his  experience  may  be,  can  become  utterly  dissipated  in  a  week — and 
still  less  in  a  day  or  an  hour.  But  a  man  can,  by  days,  and  weeks,  and 
months,  and  years,  become  so  dissipated  as  to  have  broken  down  his 
whole  bodily  constitution  ;  as  to  have  sapped  and  sucked  diy  the  brain ; 
as  to  have  impaired  every  nerve ;  as  to  have  overstrained  every  organ. 
Every  part  of  a  man's  body  may  be  utterly  destroyed  by  dissipation. 

Now,  there  is  a  dissipation  of  the  soul  which  con-esponds  to  the 
dissipation  of  the  body.  It  comes  on  by  the  perversion  of  a  man's 
reason;  by  the  perversion  of  his  moral  sympathies;  by  the  pervei'sion 
of  his  choices;  by  the  perversion  of  his  judgment  in  res^^ect  to  things 


Sm  A  GAINST  TEE  HOL  Y  GHOST.  235 

right  and  wrong.  It  is  a  gradually  accumulating  process.  It  is  not  a 
single  act.  It  is  the  comprehensive  result  of  a  long  series  of  various 
acts. 

No  man,  then,  need  fear  that  he  Avill  stumble  by  accident  into  blas- 
phemy against  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Saviour  used 
the  phrase.  No  man  can  come  to  it  without  a  thousand  warnings. 
Ko  man  can  come  to  it  without  long-continued  perversions  in  most 
familiar  and  easily  recognized  instances. 

It  is  possible  that  a  man  may  consummate  this  sin  at  a  given  point 
of  time.  It  is  possible  that  a  man  may,  in  a  moment  of  high  tempta^ 
tion,  bring  to  its  consummation  a  long  course  of  moral  degradation  and 
perversion.  There  may  be  a  time  when,  with  outrageous  and  blasphe- 
mous anger,  a  man  is  "given  over."  But  this  is  simply  the  closing  of  a 
long  series  of  wickednesses.  Ordinarily,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that 
this  work  of  deterioration  ever  has  its  consummation  in  any  single  act. 

2.  No  man  need  fear  that  he  has  committed  the  unpardonable  sin 
who  is  deeply  alarmed  and  anxious  about  it ;  for  the  very  nature  of  that 
sin  is  moral  insensibility.  If  a  man  has  sinned  away  his  day  of  grace, 
he  is  the  last  person  in  the  Avorld  that  is  concerned  about  it.  The  sign 
that  a  man  has  so  sinned  is  moral  paralysis ;  and  if  one  shows  anxiety 
about  his  condition,  that  veiy  anxiety  indicates  that  he  has  not  come 
to  that  state.  I  have  knoAvn  a  great  many  persons,  and  have  had 
scores  of  persons  come  to  me,  who,  though  then-  life  was  not  marked 
with  any  other  infirmities  or  sins  than  belong  to  men  in  common,  were 
in  great  anxiety  lest  they  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  In- 
deed, it  is  almost  invariably  the  case  in  those  types  of  insanity  where 
what  is  called  "  religious  melancholy"  sets  in,  that  the  person  thinks  he 
has  sinned  away  his  day  of  grace,  or  committed  the  unpardonable  sin, 
and  is  in  gi'eat  distress  about  it. 

Old  Dr.  Champion,  one  of  the  predecessors  of  my  father's  pulpit  in 
Litchfield,  Conn.,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  ministry,  thought  he  had 
sinned  away  the  day  of  grace,  and  that  he  was  going  to  hell ;  and  he 
never  showed  himself  so  much  a  Christian  as  in  the  disposition  which 
he  manifested  at  that  time.  If  it  was  God's  will  that  he  should  go 
there,  he  was  willing  to  go.  He  did  not  know  what  he  should  do  in 
hell,  till  one  day  he  solved  the  question  satisfactorily  in  his  own  mind, 
and  said,  "  I  will  open  a  prayer-meeting  there !"  He  thought  it  would 
afford  him  some  balm  and  consolation.  I  do  not  think  that  man  ever 
got  there.  And  yet,  he  was  in  a  constant  state  of  melancholy  from  the 
feeling  that  his  day  of  grace  had  gone. 

In  respect  to  such  cases,  that  you  have  probably  met,  and  that  I, 
in  my  j)articular  vocation,  am  constantly  meeting,  let  it  be  remembered 
that  sensibility,  anxiety,  and  ..  disposition  to  be  better,  are  totally  in- 


236  Sllf  A  GAIN8T  TEE  EOL  T  OEOST. 

consistent  with  the  existence  of  the  unpardonable  sin,  and  that  those 
persons  that  are  given  over  to  a  reprobate  mind,  are  jjersons  who  never 
care  about  it,  or  trouble  themselves  about  it.  Just  as  long  as  a  man 
cares  whether  he  goes  to  chui'ch,  and  whether  he  hears  right  preach- 
ing, and  whether  he  is  in  a  salvable  state,  or  not,  he  has  not  gone 
through  the  whole  course.  He  may  be  leading  a  life  the  tendency  of 
which  is  to  take  out  the  tone  and  temper  of  his  moral  condition  ;  but 
just  as  long  as  he  has  any  kick-back  in  him  ;  as  long  as  he  resists  ;  as 
long  as  there  is  power  in  the  truth  to  touch  his  nerve  of  sensibility,  so 
long  he  is  not  of  a  reprobate  mind.  And  where  a  person's  whole  na- 
tui-e  is  yet  sensitive,  and  he  walks  in  sorrow  and  sackcloth,  it  is  pre- 
posterous, it  is  next  to  insanity,  for  him  to  suppose  that  he  has  com- 
mitted the  unj)ardonable  sin.  Every  man  commits  many  sins  ;  we  all 
of  us  sin  perpetually ;  there  is  not  a  day  in  which  we  do  not  have  occa- 
sion to  ask  God  for  pardon ;  but  so  long  as  om-  conscience  is  alive,  we 
may  be  sure  that  we  have  not  sinned  away  our  day  of  grace. 

3.  Ordinary  jDrocrastination ;  ordinary  irresolution ;  the  putting 
aside  of  things  right  on  account  of  the  superior  attraction  of  some 
worldly  good — these  things,  although  they  are  sinful  and  dangerous, 
are  not  the  sins  which  our  Saviour  marked.  There  are  many  persons 
that  commit  sins  by  offending  God,  by  grieving  the  Divine  Spuit,  who 
are  not  properly  to  be  called  blasphemers  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  nor 
charged  with  having  committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  For  the  state 
to  which  a  man  has  come  when  these  things  are  true  respecting  him, 
is  such  a  perversion  of  his  moral  sense  that  good  and  bad  have  become 
interchanged  therein.  It  is  a  perversion  of  his  discerning  faculty.  It 
is  that  condition  in  which  he  thinks  bad  things  are  good,  and  that 
good  things  are  bad.  It  is  that  condition  which  the  conscience,  as  the 
eye,  is  in,  when  it  sees  double — when  it  sees  distortedly — being  organ- 
ically changed. 

4.  Is  this  perversion  frequent  ?  Are  men  peculiarly  liable  to  it  ? 
Is  this  sin  one  into  which  we  are  likely  to  fall  ?  Men  are  not  likely  to 
fall  into  it  suddenly — those  at  any  rate,  who  are  in  Christian  house- 
holds, and  are  following  Chiistian  courses.  It  is  not  the  special  sin  of 
persons  who  are  walking  in  the  ways  of  morality  and  vutue.  But  in  a 
great  city  like  this  there  are  not  a  few  who  are  specially  in  danger  of 
just  this  sin, — namely,  such  a  total  perversion  of  the  moral  sense  that 
they  prefer  lies  to  the  truth,  vice  to  vutue,  and  oppression  to  justice. 
They  lose  all  accuracy  of  judgment.  They  lose  all  sense  of  the  fitness 
of  things.  By  their  intei-est,  by  the  influence  of  then-  companions,  and 
by  the  long  di-ill  of  then-  own  mind,  they  are  changed  right  about.  No 
man  that  is  just  and  true  can  meet  them  without  feeling,  at  eveiy 
point,  that  \i  they  are  right  he  is  wrong,  and  that  if  they  are  wrong  he 


Sm  A  GAINST  TEE  HOL  T  GHOST.  237 

is  right.  They  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness.  They 
call  evil  good,  and  good  evil.  They  call  bitter  sweet,  and  sweet  bitter. 
There  are  multitudes  of  such  instances.  We  see  them  all  around 
about  us. 

Tills  perversion  may  be  the  result  of  physical  dissipation,  which 
sometimes  not  only  corrupts  the  body,  but  works  a  shocking  demorali- 
zation of  every  faculty  of  the  soul.  Such  is  not  always  the  eifect  of 
physical  dissipation ;  for  I  have  known  men  who,  though  they  had 
gone  through  every  gi-adation  of  intemperance,  and  though  they  seemed 
very  miich  perveited  in  mind,  yet  maintained  their  understanding  with 
a  tolerable  degree  of  justice.  They  knew  what  was  right,  and  admitted 
it ;  and  they  knew  what  was  wrong,  and  confessed  that.  There  are 
many  shades  of  intemperance.  There  are  kinds  of  intemperance  which 
make  men  devils.  There  are  kinds  of  intemperance  which  seem  to  be 
the  destruction  of  the  nervous  system,  and  the  physical  system.  And, 
though  these  kinds  of  intemperance  degenerate,  unquestionably,  the 
mental  and  moral  constitution,  yet  they  do  not  produce  this  effect  in 
any  such  eminent  degree  as  it  is  produced  in  many  cases.  I  have 
known  men  that  were  victims  of  intemperance,  who  still  remained 
amiable  and  kind,  and  in  a  sense,  very  gentle ;  who  had  intervals, 
paroxysms,  of  conviction ;  and  who,  down  to  the  end  of  their  life,  had 
moral  stamina  enough  to  strive  against  their  bondage,  and  ciy  out, 
"When  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me." 

I  have  also  seen  cases  where  everything  went  by  the  board  ;  where 
everything  that  was  fan-  and  lovely  was  burned  up ;  and  w^here  an  ab- 
solute change  was  wrought,  by  which  kindness  became  cruelty,  and 
fineness  became  vulgarity,  and  the  higher  elements  of  the  soul  were 
overwhelmed  by  lavarlike  passions. 

Where  dissipation  takes  on  these  ruinous  forms,  unquestionably  it 
will  result  in  so  degrading  the  mind,  in  so  bringing  it  down,  that  the 
moral  sense  Avill  become  utterly  perverted.  There  are  not  a  few  per- 
sons in  the  midst  of  vices — men  that  gamble,  or  men  that  live  in  de- 
bauchery— Avho  have,  far  back  inside  of  their  being,  shut  and  locked 
up,  a  little  chapel,  where  they  keep  a  conscience,  and  a  memory  of 
their  childhood.  Thei-e  are  sometimes  very  bad  men  in  whom,  if 
you  could  only  steal  into  the  chapel  of  their  souls,  and  strike  the  bell 
there,  you  could  rouse  up  a  sensibility  which  would  surprise  their 
friends  and  them.  But  it  is  shut.  It  is  kept  locked  up.  Then  there  are 
other  men  whose  dissipation  seems  to  make  a  clean  sweep,  so  that  there 
IS  nothing  left  in  them.  It  destroys  the  imagination  ;  it  destroys  the 
affections  ;  it  destroys  the  whole  moral  sense.  Yoii  may  sound  on 
every  nerve,  and  along  every  chord,  and  there  is  no  place  left  in  them 
that  has  not  been  destroyed  by  dissipation. 


238  Sllf  A  GAINST  TEE  HOL  Y  GHOST. 

Sufh  persons  have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  That  man  has 
commiltod  the  unpardonable  sin  whose  moral  sense  is  so  perverted  that 
when  he  is  brought  into  the  presence  of  truth,  and  under  the  du-ect  in- 
shining  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  there  is  nothing  in  him  that  responds  to  the 
truth,  but  something  in  him  that  acts  against  it.  That  perversion  of 
a  man's  whole  moral  constitution  which  destroys  the  power  of  God 
over  his  soul  is  a  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  a  great  many  men 
are  in  danger  of  falling  into  that  terrible  abyss.  A  great  many  men 
have  gone  into  it  who  will  never  come  out. 

It  is,  however,  by  no  means  confined  to  this.  There  is  a  danger 
that  overhangs  moral  men.  Men  determined  to  do  wrong  may  gradu- 
ally destroy  in  themselves  all  moral  resistance ;  but  there  is  many  a 
man  that  does  wrong,  and  knows  it,  who  is  not  in  so  dangerous  a  con- 
dition as  a  man  that  does  wrong,  and  does  not  believe  that  he  does  go. 
A  man  who  sins  with  his  eyes  open,  is  a  gi-eat  deal  more  likely  to  find 
his  Avay  out  of  sin  than  the  man  who  puts  his  eyes  out  in  order  to  sin. 
A  man  that  does  wrong,  and  knows  it  is  wrong  ;  a  man  that  says,  "  I 
know  this  is  wrong,  but  I  will  do  it ;"  a  man  who  keeps  his  sense  of 
God's  law  intact ;  a  man  who  says,  "  I  choose  to  ride  over  my  conscience, 
but  then,  I  have  a  conscience,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  blur  my  eyes ;" 
a  man  who  says,  "  I  am  walking  in  wrong  courses ;  but  after  all  the 
ideal  of  right  in  me  has  not  been  destroyed" — such  a  man  has  resiliency 
left ;  and  a  time  may  come  when  temptation  will  remit,  and  when  moral 
influences  will  augment ;  and  then  he  may  be  saved.  The  vitality  of 
his  moral  constitution,  his  sense  of  right  and  "«Tong,  and  his  percep- 
tion of  God's  authority  and  man's  responsibility,  which  are  preserved,  are 
all  of  them  what  a  physician  would  call  the  stamina,  the  point  of  re- 
siliency, on  which  he  may  bound  up  again  under  favorable  circumstances. 

But  to  the  man  who  goes  along,  and  reasons  about  every  step,  and 
says,  "  What  is  there  wrong  in  this  f  and  unbraids  everything,  and 
untwists  it,  and  takes  it  to  pieces — to  him,  finally,  lying  is  not  wrong. 
It  is  inexpedient,  of  course.  "A  man,"  he  says,  "should  administer 
lying  with  prudence  ;  but  it  is  not  \\Toug  in  itself"  And  of  friendship 
he  says,  "  You  get  along  better  with  it ;  but  then,  it  is  a  great  deal 
better  for  a  man  not  to  be  beholden  to  anybody ;  it  is  a  great  deal 
better  for  a  man  to  be  his  own  friend,  and  to  cultivate  just  as  much 
friendship  among  men  as  is  profitable ;  but  after  all,  it  is  all  a  vain 
show."  So  he  disintegi-ates  the  ideal  of  generous  friendship.  Step 
by  step  he  questions  matters  of  fidelity,  matters  of  taste,  matters  of 
eating  and  di-inking.  All  forms  of  illicit  pleasure,  all  courses  of  wicked- 
ness through  which  men  go,  dissij^ations  of  every  name,  he  takes  and 
throws  into  the  alembic  of  a  bad  meditation,  and  dissolves  them 
together,  and  at  last  says,  "  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  keep  me 


Sllf  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST.  239 

from  going  this  way,  or  that  way,  or  the  other  way.  I  do  not  believe 
there  is  any  God  or  ajiy  future.  I  shall  be  like  the  clod  that  the  plow 
turns  over.  I  shall  rot  on  one  side,  and  turn  up,  and  gi'ow  on  the  other 
side.  I  do  not  believe  in  good  or  bad.  I  believe  he  is  the  best  man 
who  is  like  a  needle  which  takes  the  longest  thread  through  the  smallest 
hole."  Such  a  man  is  of  a  reprobate  mind.  Any  man  who  puts  out  his 
inward  sight  so  that  he  has  not  the  power  of  forming  moral  judgments ; 
any  man  who  dissolves  the  substance  of  integrity  in  him  ;  any  man 
who  destroj^s  the  very  fiber  and  texture  of  that  which  make  right  and 
wrong  in  his  mind — any  such  man  is  reprobate.  There  is  nothing  left 
in  him  to  save.  You  cannot  do  anything  with  him.  When  God'a 
grace  shines  full  on  a  man,  if  there  are  landmarks  in  him — landmarks 
of  early  education;  landmarks  of  aifection;  landmarks  of  conscience — 
if  there  are  strong  jDoints  in  him  that  you  can  addi'css  the  truth  to,  you 
may  save  him,  though  he  has  gone  down  never  so  deep.  But  when  a 
man's  corruption  has  destroyed  the  nature  of  his  conscience,  and  oblit- 
erated in  his  mind  all  distinction  between  good  and  bad,  or  right  and 
wrong,  what  is  there  that  you  can  get  hold  of  by  which  to  change  him  ? 
Now,  there  are  many  persons  whose  wickedness  is  of  that  kind. 
Ah !  that  is  not  the  wickedest  man  who  is  fullest  of  blood ;  who  is 
most  impetuous ;  whose  quick  temperament  and  vital  constitution  make 
everything  sweet ;  who  plunges  headlong  into  this  wickedness,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next,  and,  because  reflection  is  painful,  will  not  reflect, 
but  dashes  on  ;  who  is  open  and  bold  in  his  wickedness.  Men  say  of 
Buch  an  one,  "  Oh !  what  a  shameless  fellow  he  is !  and  how  wicked  he 
is  !"  But  not  less  wicked,  perhaps,  are  those  who  hoot  and  howl  after 
him.  Not  less  wicked  are  those  elegant  men,  who  think  it  is  not  pru- 
dent or  loise ;  who  laugh  and  leer,  and  say,  "Fool !  what  did  he  do  it 
for  ?  Pie  could  have  had  all  he  wanted  in  the  world  ;  but  then,  he 
ought  to  have  heen  prudent.  Why,  there  is  not  a  pleasui-e  to  be  desu-ed 
that .[  do  not  have;  but  I  do  not  blow  my  trumpet.  I  take  it  clandes- 
tinely. If  he  would  only  practise  a  little  more  art-,  if  he  would  only 
use  a  little  more  hypocrisy,  he  would  have  just  as  much,  and  it  would 
be  a  gi'eat  deal  better  for  him.  He  will  injure  himself  by  going  on  in  such 
a  reckless  way.  He  ought  to  be  more  quiet,  and  keep  up  appearances. 
The  right  way  to  live,  is  to  eat,  di-ink,  and  be  merry,  and  get  as  much 
pleasure  as  you  can,  but  to  keep  everything  fair  above  board."  Do  not 
you  see  such  men  all  through  society — men  of  exquisite  enamel,  but 
rotten  inside  ;  men  full  of  wise,  cautionaiy  maxims  that  touch  the  out- 
side of  life,  but  full  of  damnation  in  the  heart;  men  filled  with  envies, 
and  jealousies,  and  inordinate  avaiices,  and  selfishnesses  most  profound, 
and  witliering  lusts,  all  of  them  carried  nicely  and  snugly  in  life' 
They  are  reprobate.     They  have  sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 


240  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GE08T. 

But  even  where  men  are  not  canied  into  that  state  by  th(  u-  lower 
nature  —  by  theii-  passions  and  appetites — they  still  may  be  canied  into 
substantially  the  same  state  by  another  class  of  faculties.  Where  men, 
for  instance,  have  subjected  the  whole  truth  of  religion,  and  all  its 
developments,  to  ridicule,  to  cynical  observation,  to  sneering  skepticism, 
until  they  have  destroyed  in  themselves  the  very  power  of  ajipreciating 
goodness,  they  have  sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  have  the  most 
profound  sympathy  for  a  man  that  is  truly  a  doubter.  The  voice  that 
cries  out,  "  Oh  !  my  God,  where  art  Thou  !"  is  the  saddest  voice  in  the 
world.  If  in  the  night  you  heard,  from  out  of  the  woods  on  the  edge 
of  which  you  dwelt,  the  voice  of  one  in  trouble  calling  out  in  the  still- 
ness, would  not  you  rise  and  go  out  after  him,  and  succor  him,  and 
bring  him  into  the  road  if  he  had  lost  it  ?  And  if  there  are  any  who 
are  in  trouble  from  having  lost  then*  faith,  not  wanting  to  be  unbe- 
lievers, but  longing  to  get  on  stronger  ground,  my  whole  heart's 
pity  goes  out  for  them.  It  was  to  seek  and  to  save  such  that  Jesus 
Chi'ist  was  sent  into  the  world ;  and  he  will  surely  rescue  them  if  they 
are  honest  and  true ;  if  they  follow  the  heart  rather  than  the  head ;  if 
they  seek  not  philosophy,  but  life  in  the  soul.  But  when  skepticism  is 
sneering ;  when  it  is  malignant ;  when  men  make  use  of  it  to  disbelieve 
everybody's  goodness,  and  not  to  increase  their  conviction  that  they 
themselves  ought  to  be  good  ;  when  it  undermines  the  faith  of  others  ; 
and  when  it  would  destroy  the  young  with  its  blighting  strokes  of 
wit — then  it  is  most  cruel,  and  most  awful. 

To  put  the  torch  to  a  man's  house  is  nothing ;  to  burn  up  his  house- 
hold goods  is  but  very  little,  even  if  he  is  poor  without  them  ;  but  to 
take  away  a  man's  faith,  though  it  be  eiToneous,  is  to  take  away  the 
most  sacred  thing  that  he  can  have.  Do  not  take  away  from  a  man 
anything  that  he  believes  in,  and  that  he  leans  on,  till  you  can  put  in 
its  place  something  that  is  better.  To  knock  from  under  a  man's  feet 
that  which  he  stands  on,  and  to  give  him  nothing  else,  is  a  wanton  cru- 
elty and  wickedness  which  is  hardly  to  be  measured  by  any  language. 
How  many  parents  there  are  that  sneer  at  then-  childi-en's  faith !  How 
many  old  materialistic  lawyers,  how  many  skeptical  doctors,  how  many 
men  that  have  no  faith  in  religion,  there  are,  who,  though  they  are 
good  at  heart,  and  have  kind  ways,  use  theii-  tongue  as  a  lancet,  cut- 
ting right  and  left,  and  destroying  men's  beliefs,  instead  of  pruning 
them  to  make  them  better !  How  many  there  are,  the  effect  of  whose 
life  is  to  undermine  moral  beliefs  ;  to  undermine  moral  restraints  ;  to 
undermine  the  faith  which  is  the  support  of  the  soul ! 

Where  a  man  has  gene  through  a  long  life  like  this,  it  may  very 
well  be  feared  that  he  has  sinned  away  the  day  of  gi-ace ;  that  he  is  given 
over  to  a  reprobate  mind ;  that  he  has  sinned  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 


Sm  A  GAINST  THE  EOL  T  GHOST.  241 

It  is  a  very  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  to  pervert  his  own  moral  sense 
■ — to  pervert  it  so  that  there  is  in  him  no  virtue,  no  truth,  no  i)iety  ;  and 
then  to  pervert  other  people's  moral  sense  as  well.  Such  a  course  as 
that  hardens  and  triple-hardens  a  man. 

This  may  take  place  in  even  more  ingenious  and  less  suspected  ways. 
A  man  may  befog  his  conscience — and  that  is  bad  enough.  A  man 
may  by  a  thousand  little  mean  courses  come  to  that  which  otherwise 
men  come  to  by  great  leaps.  I  would  rather  have  a  man  commit  two 
or  three  great  sins  a  year,  and  hold  up  all  the  rest  of  the  time,  than 
have  him  keep  safely  out  of  all  great  sins,  and  be  forever  nibbling  on 
little,  small,  mean  ways,  that  finally  infix  themselves  upon  his  disposi- 
tion. 

If  it  is  a  thief,  you  must  shut  him  out,  or  else  you  will  lose  all  your 
linen  and  yom-  clothes ;  but  it  is  only  once  or  twice  a  year  that  you 
need  fear  thieves.  They  are  not  apt  to  come  into  a  man's  house  oftener 
than  that ;  but  they  are  one  soui-ce  of  danger.  Then  there  are  moths. 
They  come  into  your  house  ;  but  with  tolerable  care  you  can  keep  them 
out.  Then  there  is  something  finer  yet — mildew  and  mould.  These 
are  great  enemies.  But  there  is  something  still  worse,  and  that  is  bad 
washing,  where  you  cut  your  clothes  to  pieces  by  caustics — where  under 
the  name  of  cleaning  you  rot  the  very  fabric  of  your  garments.  You 
are  in  danger  of  having  yom-  clothes  stolen  once  in  a  while  by  a  big 
thief.  Still  more  are  you  in  danger  of  having  them  moth-eaten,  or  de- 
stroyed by  mildew  and  mould.  And  yet  more  ai-e  you  in  danger  of  hav- 
ing their  very  substance  corroded  by  the  process  which  you  employ  in 
washing  them. 

Now,  a  man  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  moral  stamina  by  great  sins. 
They  are  very  dangerous ;  but  they  do  not  come  very  often.  The  loss 
of  business,  the  breaking  up  of  friendships,  and  a  thousand  other 
things,  act  as  breakwaters,  and  tend  to  restrain  men  from  such  dangers. 
But  there  are  other  dangers  that  come  like  moths ;  and  still  others  that 
come  like  mildew  and  mould  ;  and  others  still  that  come  in  the  guise 
of  domestic  cleansings,  and  destroy  the  fiber  of  the  man. 

Here  is  a  man  that  you  could  not  get  to  steal.  He  has  a  very  great 
prejudice  against  jails,  and  he  is  not  going  to  commit  theft.  And  yet, 
there  are  a  thousand  ways  in  which  a  man,  without  stealing,  can  rasp 
oflf  the  corners  of  other  men's  interests.  And  there  is  many  a  man 
who  is  all  the  time  hanging  on  the  edge  of  men's  necessities,  and  acting 
like  a  thief  without  a  thief's  boldness ;  pursuing  little  mean  ways  that 
are  perpetually  making  himself  betier  off  than  his  fellow  men.  He  is 
a  universal  absorbent  of  everybody  that  he  touches.  He  goes  around 
never  doing  anything  very  large  or  very  right,  but  ih  every  dh-ectioa 
pursuing  such  little  mean,  wicked  com-ses  that  the  very  substance  of 


242  Sm  A  GAINST  TEE  EOL  Y  GEOST. 

his  nature  is  disintegrated  and  destroyed  by  these  erosions.  By  thia 
minute,  constant  and  continued  tampering  with  his  moral  sense,  he  at 
last  conies  to  that  state  in  which  the  light  of  the  glory  of  God,  when 
it  shines  upon  him,  produces  no  more  effect  than  the  morning  sun, 
shining  upon  the  face  of  a  corpse  that  lies  in  the  east  window. 

When  men  lie  dead  in  the  house,  the  morning  bell  calls  them  not. 
They  do  not  hear  the  children  on  the  stairs.  Then*  ears  are  deaf  to  the 
sweet  sounds  of  birds  out  of  doors.  The  beauty  dispersed  all  abroad 
then-  eyes  do  not  .behold.  And  I  see  men  whose  moral  sense  is  so 
dead  that  it  is  never  touched  by  all  the  mercies  of  God  above,  nor  by 
all  the  mercies  of  God  distributed  among  men  below.  They  aa-e  eaten 
up  and  destroyed  utterly. 

A  man  may  come  to  the  same  state  by  a  sort  of  egotism  by  which 
he  puts  himself  in  the  place  of  God.  When  a  man's  vanity  and  self- 
conceit  is  so  inordinate  that  he  becomes  everything  to  himself — that  he 
becomes  the  universe  to  himself;  that  he  becomes  a  deity  to  himself; 
that  he  becomes  a  supreme  government  to  himself;  that  he  makes  a 
hideous  idol  of  himself,  and  worships  himself — then  he  has  come  to  thia 
state.  "Seest  thou  a  man  wise  in  his  own  conceit"?  there  is  more  hope 
of  a  fool  than  of  him."  "Woe  unto  them  that  are  wise  in  their  own 
eyes,  and  prudent  in  then"  own  sight !"      It  is  the  idolatry  of  egotism. 

Of  all  God's  gifts,  there  is  none  of  such  value  as  the  moral  sense, 
and  there  is  none  that  we  are  so  little  likely  to  take  care  of,  and  to  keep 
clear  and  sensitive,  and  divinely  bright.  The  moral  sense  is  the  great- 
est treasure  we  have.  I  hear  men  thank  God  that  he  gave  them  such 
a  reason.  Reason  is  a  stately  and  noble  gift,  surely ;  but  conscience  is 
better  than  reason.  I  hear  men  congratulating  then-  fellows  that  God 
gave  them  genius.  They  are  poets.  They  are  orators.  They 
are  artists.  They  carve  the  stone.  They  depict  in  colors  the 
various  forms  of  life.  And  this,  surely,  is  a  munificent  gift  from 
the  hand  of  God.  But  no  genius  is  comparable  to  the  sense  of 
that  which  is  right  and  wrong.  Genius  of  conscience  is  the  best 
genius  that  a  man  can  have.  I  hear  men  thank  God  that  they 
have  warm  affections ;  and  it  is  a  subject  of  thanksgiving  ;  but,  after 
all,  that  divinely  enlightened  eye  by  which  a  man  can  see  things  true 
in  the  heaven  above  and  on  the  earth  beneath,  is  far  better.  There 
is  nothing  that  God  ever  gives  to  a  man  like  a  clear-eyed,  whole- 
some, sensitive,  prophetic,  magisterial  conscience,  which  shows  him 
the  path,  even  where  men's  feet  have  not  walked,  interpreting  what  is 
right  and  what  is  wrong,  making  him  sensitive  to  all  these  things,  and 
keeping  him  on  the  side  of  whatever  is  good,  and  just,  and  true,  and 
pure,  and  of  good  report,  among  men  or  angels.  But,  though  this  is 
the  greatest  gift  that  God  ever  makes,  it  is  the  one  that  men  are  most 


Sm  A  GAINST  THE  HOL  T  GHOST.  243 

cai'eless  about.  You  may  destroy  almost  everything  else  m  a  man ;  but 
so  long  as  you  keep  that  in  him,  you  have  in  him  the  root  of  manhood. 
You  may  destroy  that,  and  keej:*  everything  else,  and  the  man  wUl  be 
utterly  undone.  Christ  called  it  the  eye.  "The  light  of  the  body  is 
the  eye.  If,  therefore,  the  eye  be  single,  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full 
of  light.  But  if  thine  eye  be  evil,  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  dark- 
ness. If  thei'cfore  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness,  how  gi'eat  is 
that  darkness  !"  No  disaster  can  befal  a  man  so  great  as  the  perversion 
and  destruction  of  the  eye  of  his  soul. 

A  man  may  cut  away  every  mast  on  his  ship,  and  yet  pm-sue  his 
voyage.  A  man  may  have  everything  on  deck  carried  overboard,  and 
yet  make  some  headway.  A  man  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean  can  af- 
ford to  lose  everything  else  better  than  he  can  afford  to  lose  the 
compass  in  the  binnacle.  When  that  is  gone  he  has  nothing  to  steer 
by.  That  little  instrument  is  his  best  friend.  It  is  his  guide.  And 
that  conscience  which  God  has  given  you  is  your  compass  and  guide. 
You  can  afford  to  lose  genius,  and  taste,  and  reason,  and  judgment,  bet- 
ter than  that.  Keep  that  as  the  apple  of  your  eye.  Keep  it  clear,  and 
strong,  and  discerning.  Be  in  love  with  your  conscience ;  and  let  your 
conscience  be  in  love  with  God.  A  conscience  held  in  love,  is  the  very 
foundation  not  only  of  a  spiiitual  manhood,  but  of  hauviness  in  an 
eaithly  manhood. 


24.4  SIN  A  GAmST  THE  EOL  T  GHOST. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

Oh  Lord  orr  God,  it  is  to  thiue  infinite  mercy  and  thine  infinite  goodneis  that  we 
address  ourselves.  If  thou  wert  to  measure  us  as  thou  dost  those  who  have  kept  their 
first  estate  in  heaven — the  spirits  that  dwell  with  thee — who  of  us  could  claim  to  ap- 
proach thee  or  know  tliy  fellowship.  So  far  are  wo  from  knowledge,  so  far  Irom  con- 
formity, so  far  from  the  spirit  of  the  divine,  who  ef  us  could  venture  to  draw  near  to  thy 
presence  at  ain  Who  of  us  could  come  boldly?  Who  of  us  would  dare  to  call  thee 
Father?  And  yet,  thou  hast  put  these  most  endearing  words  into  our  lips.  For  thou 
hast  sent  thy  Son  to  say  to  us  that  henceforth  we  are  not  servants,  hat  friends.  Art  thou 
then,  our  Friend,  O  Lord  our  God  ?  And  may  we  stand  as  friend  with  friend  by  thy 
side  ?  And  may  we  know  all  that  thou  dost?  Thou  hast  taught  us  in  lifting  our  heart 
heavenward  to  say  Our  Father.  Art  thou  then,  O  gracious  and  all-loviug,  our  Father  ? 
And  are  we  as  dear  to  thee  as  our  children  are  to  us  ?  And  wilt  thou  do  tor  us  what  we 
■would  be  willing  a  thousand  times  to  do  for  our  children  ?  Thou  dost  reply  to  us,  say- 
ing, If  ye  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  things  to  your  children,  how  much  more 
your  Father  which  is  in  heaven !  And  iu  this  comfortable  assurance,  in  this  joyful  trust 
of  thy  goodness,  we  have  from  day  to  day  drawn  near  to  thee;  wo  have  asked;  we  have 
reasoned;  wo  have  been  guarded  from  evil;  we  have  been  upheld  in  good;  we  have  seen 
dangers  that  drew  near  like  night  dispelled  as  by  the  morning.  We  have  seen  evils  that 
shot  over  our  heaas,  surcharged  with  bolts,  driven  away  as  winds  drive  the  Storm.  We 
have  seen  our  weakness  strengthened,  our  sickness  healed,  our  anxiety  alleviated,  and 
our  darkness  filled  full  of  stars.  Thou  hast  drawn  near  to  us  in  our  solitude.  Ihou 
hast  been  a  better  companion  to  us  than  those  most  beloved.  Thou  hast  not  only  given 
US  the  light  that  is  in  this  natural  world,  but  shined  into  our  heart  by  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  given  us  the  light  which  shines  from  Christ  .Tesus.  We  have  felt  our  lives  made 
abundant  and  joyful,  and  in  many  respects  victorious  by  thy  grace.  By  the  grace  of 
God  we  are  what  we  are.  It  is  thy  hand  of  love  that  has  moulded  us.  And  though  some- 
times thou  hast  in  mouldmg  so  put  forth  thy  strength  that  we  called  it  sorrow,  yet  it 
has  been  love.  Thy  smitings  and  thy  chastisements  have  been  love.  Our  very  wounds — 
thou  hast  made  them  by  love  to  us.  Thou  hast  touched  us  again,  and  healed  us,  and 
made  us  strong.  And  in  all  thy  dealings  with  us,  thou  hast  mingled  mercy  aud  severity. 
Thou  hast  shown  thyself  like  a  father  unto  us.  We  mourn  that  we  should  have  grieved 
thee  as  we  have.  We  mourn  that  wo  should  have  been  as  inconstant  as  we  have  been 
in  goodness.  Wo  mourn  that  our  strength  should  have  lain  so  far  down  toward  the  ma- 
terial world  on  which  we  stand;  and  that  in  things  spiritual,  where  holy  aspirations 
dwell,  we  have  been  so  feeble  and  so  inconstant.  Our  day  has  been  long  in  things  nat- 
ural, and  short  in  things  spiritual.  O  Lord,  we  make  confession  of  our  unworthiuess,  of 
our  great  weakness,  of  our  infirmities;  but  chiefly  of  our  sins,  which  are  more  than 
we  can  number.  And  yet  thou  art  He  that  doth  forgive.  Thou  dost  teach  us  how  to 
overcome  evil.  Thou  art  awaking  iu  us  a  holy  horror  of  it.  Thou  art  making  us  love 
the  things  that  are  right  because  they  are  right,  aud  bringing  us  into  sweet  agreement 
with  all  the  ways  of  duty.  Harmonious  are  they  to  our  better  thought.  This  is  thy 
teaching.  Be  pleased,  then,  though  we  be  slow  and  inconstant,  and  even  disobedient, 
though  we  are  infirm  and  weak,  and  even  fractious,  and  sinful— be  pleased  All-loving 
Father,  still  to  guide  and  still  to  instruct  us.  May  we  learn  to  possess  our  spirits  in 
due  humility  before  God.  May  we  evermore  be  lowly  and  humble.  Help  us  to  carry 
ourselves  among  men  in  nil  charity  aud  in  true  love.  May  we  not  be  afraid  of  that 
which  is  right-  May  wo  fear  only  that  which  is  wrong.  Aud  grant  that  all  our  life 
long  we  may  feel  that  this  is  not  the  real  life,  but  the  shadow;  that  our  substantial 
home  is  not  that  which  man's  hand  can  build,  nor  time  pull  down.  Alay  we  fV-el  that 
our  home  is  iu  the  unseen  world— in  that  city  of  God — in  that  house  not  made  with 
hands.  Thou  art  making  it  near  to  us.  Thou  art  sending  there  so  many  messengers — 
so  many  that  we  have  learned  to  love  upon  earth,  that  are  now  looking  out  upon 
u<,  and  that  we  find  with  our  lovino  and  searching  thoughts  —  that  heaven  is  in- 
deed b  icomiiig  pipulous  to   our  realization.     There  are  our  little  ones;   (here  are  our 


Sm  AGAINST  TEE  HOLT  GHOST.  2 

parents;  there  are  our  trothers  and  sisters;  there  are  our  fondest  companions.  They 
hare  slept  to  earth,  and  are  awakened  to  immortality;  and  they  are  as  the  angels  of 
God.  Everyday  we  are  drawing  nearer  to  them;  aud  every  day  our  souls  hear  some- 
what that  it  is  not  lawful  for  our  bodies  to  understand.  Every  day  we  hear  them  crying 
out  to  us  "  Come,  cou:e."  We  are  coming.  By  sickness,  by  pain,  wo  are  sped.  By 
sorrows  and  by  growing  years  we  are  sped.  By  troubles,  which  are  called  men's  misfor- 
tunes, but  which  are  God's  winds  scut  to  convey  us,  we  are  coming — coming  to  the 
General  Assembly  and  Church  of  the  first  born;  coming  to  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect.  AVe  are  forsaking  the  treasure  of  life.  "We  are  forsaking  its  languishing 
affections.  We  are  forsaking  the  partial,  and  the  little,  and  the  low.  We  are  reaching 
out  toward  the  perfect,  the  joyful,  the  pure,  the  infinite  and  the  eternal.  O  Lord  our 
God!  grant  that  we  may  not  be  sorry  that  life  is  spending  itself.  Grant  that  we  may 
look  forward  to  that  otker  and  better  life  with  growing  desire  and  yearning  from  day  to 
day. 

And  now,  may  we  make  sure  that  wo  have  thy  friendship,  and  that  our  names  are 
written  in  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life.  And  then  may  we  welcome  what  Providence  so  far 
hath  been  pleased  to  send.  Thou  canst  not  make  us  poor  who  have  heaven.  Thou  canst 
not  make  us  sorrowful  whose  is  all  the  assembly  of  the  blessed.  Thou  canst  not  make  us 
afraid — thou  that  dost  love  us,  and  hast  redeemed  us  by  thine  own  precious  blood.  Thy 
will  be  done.    And  so  we  shall  have  peace,  and  joy. 

Bless  we  beseech  of  thee  all  that  worship  to-day,  of  every  name;  all  thy  servants 
who  speak  the  truth,  to  a  better  discerning  of  the  truth  everywhere,  and  to  a  more  earn- 
est and  heart-felt  expression  of  it.  And  may  thy  truth  have  new  power  given  to  it 
from  year  to  year.  Give  it  authority  to  meet  and  overcome  all  lies,  and  all  untruths  of 
every  grade  spoken  of  men,  or  wrought  into  the  texture  of  life  May  there  bo  a  power 
in  the  truth  of  God  to  overcome  all  iniquity  and  every  evil.  Fulfill  the  promises  which 
respect  the  earth.  Bring  in  Jew  and  Gentile,  and  the  fulness  of  the  earth  as  the  fulness 
of  the  sea. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son  and  Spirit.    A7ne3i. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  heavenly  Father  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  add  to  the  truth  which  we 
have  spoken  thy  Spirit,  by  which  it  shall  take  hold  upon  the  thought,  upon  the  con- 
science, upon  the  understanding  of  every  one.  Make  us  honest  with  ourselves,  and 
honest  with  thee.  May  thy  spirit  of  all  light  shine  into  us.  May  we  put  between  us 
and  thee  no  veils  and  no  hindrances.  May  our  conscience  be  clear  to  thy  shining,  and 
true  to  those  impressions  which  thou  dost  give  us.  May  our  lives  follow  our  consciences 
so  that  at  last  when  life  shall  be  over,  aud  we  shall  bo  ready  to  go  out  of  school,  it  shall 
be  well  taujrht  and  well  bred,  and  prepared  for  the  higher  school  of  better  knowledge  in 
thine  immediate  presence;  whero  wo  willp:aisQ  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Spirit, 
forevermore.    Amen. 


XVI. 

Inheeitance  of  the  MeeKo 


INVOCATION. 

Draw  near  to  us,  thou  blessed  Saviour  !  Even  as  thou  didst  draw  near 
unto  the  world  upon  that  joyful  day  which  we  celebrate,  so  draw  near  to 
each  soul  to-day.  May  all  thy  messages  be  as  angel-voices  to  us.  May  we 
hear  the  heavens  crying  unto  the  earth ;  and  may  the  earth  answer  back 
again.  Now,  after  so  many  years  of  light  and  knowledge,  may  men  join 
with  angels,  and  may  the  hearts  of  men  be  attuned  to  praise  thee.  And 
that  we  may  praise  thee,  may  we  learn  to  love  one  another  here  upon  earth, 
finding  out  that  secret  love  which  we  shall  give  to  thee  and  to  thine  own 
heavenly  land.  Bless  the  services  of  the  day ;  bless  us  in  reading,  in  speak- 
ing, in  singing,  in  prayer,  in  meditation  and  in  every  office  of  devotion  and 
instruction.    We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


\^ 


INHEBITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 


'  Blessed  are  the  meek  ;  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth."— Matt.  V.  5. 


When  oui*  Lord  spoke  this,  the  whole  world  was  apparently  a  wit- 
ness ac^ainst  its  truth.  If  one  looked  back  from  his  point  of  time,  the 
Oriental  monarchies  had  existed  in  a  state  of  almost  continual  war. 
The  Persian  dynasty  had  rolled  its  armies  like  waves  over  all  the  East. 
Of  all  forms  of  violence,  none  is  more  physical  and  brutal  than  mili- 
tary. Against  the  Persian,  came  the  Grecian  hosts ;  and,  like  a  counter- 
tide  from  a  stormier  ocean,  drove  back  and  overwhelmed  the  violence 
of  the  Persian.  Then  the  Roman  Empu-e  overtlnew  and  dominated 
all  governments  ;  and  at  the  time  of  Christ  it  was  the  one  supreme 
power  on  the  earth.  And  surely,  it  was  not  the  meekness  of  Rome, 
then  or  since,  which  caused  it  to  inherit  the  earth. 

Palestine  was  in  the  hands  of  Roman  governors,  and  was  torn  by 
factions,  and  was  bubbling  and  overflowing  like  a  crater,  with  incessant 
revolutionary  outbreak.  If  there  was  any  one  thing  in  all  the  world 
which  was  sure  of  gaining  universal  control,  it  was  cunning  and  \\o- 
lence.  If  there  was  one  quality  which  was  sure  of  being  trodden  down 
and  despised,  it  was  meekness.  The  extraordinary  prophecy  of  Christ, 
"  It  shall  inherit  the  earth," — any  thing  but  that !  Had  he  said  that  if 
one  withdrew  himself  from  among  men  he  would  bo  happier  in  meek- 
ness, living  by  himself,  that  we  should  have  understood.  Had  he  said 
that  meekness  should  inherit  the  world  to  come,  or  that  it  should  give 
to  the  soul  more  true  joy  than  victorious  violence  could  do,  or  that  it 
should  be  better  than  all  other  possessions,  we  should  not  have  won- 
dered. The  one  unlikely,  if  not  impossible  thing — that  meekness 
should  yet  possess  and  govern  the  earth — was  selected  by  our  Saviom-, 
and  declared  as  a  prophecy.  And  there  stood  that  quiet  prophecy, 
amidst  the  thunder  of  the  universal  battle  that  was  then  going  on  over 
all  the  earth. 

I  Had  the  air  been  filled  with  eagles  and  vultures  and  hawks  among 
which  .Jesus  threw  up  a  white  dove,  saying,  "  Blessed  be  the  dove,  it 
shall  nile  all  the  air,"  it  would  scarcely  have  seemed  more  strange.  Had 
he  sent  a  little  lamb  into  the  wilderness  among  the  bears,  and  wolves, 

Si'N-HAT  ;Morxisg,  Dec.  26,  1869.    Lesson  :  Matt.  Y.  1—16.    Hrjixs  (Plymonth  Collection) 
No8.  655,  297,  -m. 


248  INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

and  lions,  saying,  "  It  shall  go  forth  and  prevail  against  them  all,"  it 
would  not  have  seemed  more  unlikely  of  accomplishment.  Had  he 
taken  a  sucking  child  from  its  mother's  arms  and  appointed  it  ruler 
over  waiTiors,  or  the  beasts  of  the  wilderness,  it  would  have  been  no 
less  reasonable.  And  yet,  our  Lord  had  only  to  go  back  to  the  proph- 
ecies which  respected  himself,  to  find  every  one  of  these  figm-es  expressly 
emj)loyed,  in  spirit  at  least,  for  the  very  same  end, — as  we  shall  find  in 
the  eleventh  chapter  of  Isaiah: 

"But  with  righteousness  shall  he  judge  the  poor,  and  reprove  with  equity  for  the 
meek  of  the  earth;  and  he  shall  smite  the  earth  with  the  rod  of  his  mouth,  and  with  the 
breath  of  his  lips  shall  he  slay  the  wicked.  And  righteousness  shall  be  the  girdle  of  his 
loins,  and  faithfulness  the  girdle  of  his  reins.  The  wolf  also  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb, 
and  the  leopard  shall  He  down  with  the  kid ;  and  the  calf  and  the  young  lion  and  the  fat- 
ling  together;  and  a  little  child  shall  lead  them.  And  the  cow  and  the  bear  shall  feed; 
their  young  ones  shall  lie  down  together;  and  the  lion  shall  eat  si  raw  like  the  ox.  And 
the  sucking  child  shall  play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall  put  his 
hand  on  the  cockatrice's  den.  They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy  moun- 
tain; for  theearth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledgeof  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

Let  us,  then,  consider  what  is  the  full  drift  of  this  single  announce- 
ment,— "  Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth." 

I  begin  by  saying  that  meekness  is  not  a  faculty.  It  is  not  a  single 
attribute  of  the  soul.  It  is  a  state  or  condition  of  the  whole  mind.  It 
is  produced  by  the  complete  ascendancy  of  the  highest  moral  feelings 
in  om'  natm'e. 

There  are  thi'ee  generic  conditions  under  which  a  man  may  hold 
his  soul. 

The  first  is  where  those  instincts  and  passions  which  belong  to  our 
animal  nature,  and  whose  normal  sphere  is  upon  the  material  globe, 
predominate,  and  give  tone  to  character.  Under  such  circumstances, 
men  are  always  sensual, — fleshly,  in  scriptiu'e  language.  They  live  by 
Die  force  of  their  material  organization. 

But  as  men  come  under  better  influences,  there  grows  up  an  inter- 
mediate state,  a  mixed  character,  in  which  force  alternates  with  higher 
and  better  feelings.  Under  great  excitement,  the  physical  qualities 
predominate  ;  but  in  times  of  quiet,  and  away  from  temptation, 
there  grow  up  milder  influences,  nobler  sentiments.  The  result  is  that 
there  is  an  occasional  outburst  of  feeling,  and  also  an  occasional  expe- 
rience of  sweetness  and  peace.  It  is,  in  such  cii'cumstances,  an  alter- 
nating condition  of  the  mind,  which  results  in  great  strife  and  conflict 
between  the  one  part  and  the  other — between  the  higher  and  the  lower 
nature.  And  the  greater  part  of  men  in  civilized  countries  live  in  this 
intermediate  condition,  in  which  the  animal  is  not  predominant,  and  in 
which  the  spiritual  is  not  predominant,  but  in  v/hich  sometimes  one 
and  soiui'times  the  other  rules,  neither  having  free  course. 

Then  there  is  a  final  state  —  the  highest  we  know  of — that  in  which 
the  moral  sentiments  completely  rule.     Where  these  higher  qualities 


INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK.  249 

give  expression  to  the  whole  life — to  the  face,  to  the  tone  of  voice,  to 
the  language  ;  where  they  surround  the  very  soul,  as  with  an  atmos- 
phere; where  the  whole  natm-e  is  saturated  with  faith,  hope,  love — 
with  truth,  equity,  benevolence — there  is  an  an-  given  to  men,  of 
sti'ength  in  gentleness,  of  courage  in  sweetness,  of  activity  in  tran- 
quility, of  will  without  obstinacy,  of  self-confidence  without  conceit. 
All  these  qualities  may  exist  in  the  individual,  and  over  them  all  there 
shall  be  a  luminous  refinement,  a  spu-itual  glow,  which  saves  the  soul 
from  the  chai'ge  of  insipidity  and  flatness,  and  gives  it  authority  and 
vitaUty.  When  the  soul  is  completely  under  the  dominion  of  these 
spu-itual  emotions,  it  shines.  It  impresses  all  that  come  near  it.  It 
rules  whatever  is  within  its  sphere.  In  short,  the  spuitual  is  to  become 
supreme  in  authority.  And  that  which  makes  us  men — not  that  which 
makes  us  animals — gives  color  and  tone  to  the  whole  life  and  char- 
acter. 

It  is  the  atmosphere  of  the  spiiitual  nature  of  man,  or  that  appear- 
ance and  those  qualities  which  we  see  when  the  man  is  under  the 
complete  control  of  his  higher  moral  sentiments,  which  is  meant,  by 
ineekness.  K  you  attempt  to  give  a  description  of  meekness  you  will 
certainly  fail ;  because  no  word  can  define  it.  It  is  so  comprehensive 
and  so  varying  that  you  can  only  describe  the  cii'cumstances  under 
which  it  takes  place ;  and  those  cu'cumstances  are  that  luminousness, 
that  gentleness,  that  sweetness,  that  vitality,  and  that  beauty,  which 
act  -vthen  the  higher  sentiments  completely  rule  in  a  man,  and  give 
theii-  natural  language  to  his  body,  to  his  face,  to  eveiything  that 
belongs  to  him. 

To  say  that  meekness  shall  inherit  the  earth,  is  to  say  that  meekness 
is  the  strongest  element  in  man  ;  or  that  man,  when  he  is  disclosed  in 
this  manner, — when  he  is  in  great  power,  and  when  that  power  is  of 
his  higher  moral  sentiments, — is  then  in  a  condition  of  superiority. 
It  is  to  say,  in  other  words,  that  a  man  whose  moral  sentiments  guide 
him  wholly,  is  a  stronger  creatm-e  than  that  man  whose  basilar  senti- 
ments guide  him  wholly ;  and  that  mankind,  when  they  shall  come  into 
the  possession  of  these  moral  states,  will  dominate  all  lower  states. 

What  I  understand  to  be  the  scope  of  this  declaration  of  Chiist — 
"  Blessed  are  the  meek " — is,  that  the  time  is  coming  in  which  they 
shall  inherit  the  earth.  In  other  words,  they  are  yet  to  govern.  Man- 
hood, when  it  comes  out,  comes  out  of  its  cruder  conditions  and  lower 
states;  manhood,  when  it  begins  to  find  itself,  and  take  on  its  full 
divine  forms;  the  ideal  manhood — this  so  shows  itself  superior  to 
everything  beneath  it,  that  to  say  that  meekness  shall  rule,  and  that 
the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,  is  to  assert  superiority  in  the  tme  order 
of  natm-e — it  is  to  assert  the  superiority  of  the  spiiitual  elements  of 


250  INHERITANCE  OF  TEE  MEEK. 

human  nature  over  its  lower  passional  elements.  It  is  to  declare  that 
finally  these  elements  which  are  superior  shall,  by  vulue  of  their  supe- 
riority, control  the  world. 

The  world  has  not  been  controlled  by  them  thus  far.  Single  fami- 
lies have.  Occasional  churches  have.  But  no  nation  has.  Neither 
has  any  department  in  any  nation.  The  lower  wisdom  in  many,  which 
springs  from  passion,  has  governed  the  world,  and  still  governs  it.  But 
a  time  is  coming  when  men  shall  not  laugh  and  scoff  when  we  declare 
that  the  Avisdom  of  conscience  is  better  than  the  wisdom  of  pride ;  that 
the  wisdom  of  love  is  better  than  the  wisdom  of  selfishness ;  that  the 
wisdom  of  faith,  and  of  hope,  and  of  the  world  to  come,  is  better  in  the 
management  of  human  affau-s  than  the  wisdom  of  the  basilar  and  pas- 
sional nature.  The  time  is  coming  when  men  shall  understand  that 
they  get  better  Avisdom  from  the  top  of  their  head  than  from  the  bottom. 
'  Plence,  this  declaration  of  our  Master  is  not  saying  that  now  every 
man  who  is  meek  is  going  to  possess  the  earth.  Indeed,  it  does  not 
mean  possession  in  any  such  sense  as  that  in  which  the  word  is  us€d 
when  we  speak  about  a  piece  of  ground  which  a  man  has  in  fee  simple. 
It  has  no  reference  to  the  ownership  of  houses,  and  lands,  and  what 
not.  It  is  control,  rather  than  ownership,  that  is  meant.  And  if  you 
interpret  this  declaration  to  mean  that  one  who  has  become  truly  meek, 
will,  on  that  account,  rise  immediately  above  eveiybody  else  around 
about  him,  you  will  mistake  its  real  import.  Such  a  man  will  be  su- 
perior to  those  around  about  him ;  but  he  will  not  be  recognized  as  such 
by  the  community  in  which  he  dwells,  until  they  have  gone  up  so  far 
in  meekness  that  they  can  appreciate  his  superiority.  Just  so  far  as 
men  are  refined,  they  can  appreciate  refinement  in  others ;  but  refine- 
ment among  the  Nootka  Sound  Indians  is  at  a  discount.  They  do  not 
regard  a  man  as  superior  who  cannot  fish  and  handle  the  bow  and  ai' 
row.  If  he  is  merely  refined  and  intellectual,  they  do  not  consider 
him  superior  to  them. 

This  is  the  teleologic,  and  therefore  the  final  condition.  And  the 
text  simply  declares  the  result  which  shall  be  achieved  when  the  long 
battle  is  fought  to  victory.  It  simply  states  which  part  of  the  soul 
shall  rule.  It  simply  asserts  what,  when  the  long  season  is  over,  shall 
hang  in  ripeness  and  be  gathered,  and  what  shall  be  husk  and  chaff, 
and  be  burned  up. 

But  even  so  explained,  does  it  seem  as  though  our  Lord's  words 
would  ever  come  true  ?  This  is  a  day  in  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
speak  of  the  influence  of  the  divine  nature — of  our  Master — on  the 
world ;  but  does  it  seem  as  if  our  Loi-d  were  gaining  in  the  dominion  of 
this  world  ?  There  be  many  who  think  not.  There  be  many  who 
think  reliflrion  is  sroing  backwai-d.     I  am  not  of  them.     I  believe  reli- 


INEEBITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK  251 

gion  is  advancing.  I  believe  it  was  never  so  deep,  never  so  spiritual, 
I  believe  its  claims  were  never  so  comprehensive  in  the  recogriition  of 
men.  I  believe  it  was  never  so  widely  diffused.  I  believe  it  is  taking 
other  channels  than  the  church.  I  believe  there  arc  other  than  ecclesi- 
astical influences  at  work  for  its  dissemination.  If  I  believed  that  the 
Lord  owned  only  Palestine,  as  the  Jews  did — or,  in  the  modern  version 
of  it,  that  he  owned  only  the  chiirch ;  if  like  our  modern  Christian  Jews, 
I  believed  that  all  there  was  of  Christ  was  inside  of  the  church,  I  should 
mom'u,  with  those  who  are  assembled  to-day  to  take  counsel  as  to  how 
they  can  withstand  the  incursions  of  free-thought  and  liberty.  Irreli- 
gion  they  are  pleased  to  call  it ;  but  I  think  it  is  no  such  thing.  If  we 
can  discover  what  is  the  true  order  of  nature  in  the  unfolding  and  de- 
velopment of  man,  we  shall  then  have  a  test  by  which  to  decide,  not 
only  whether  the  world  is  advancing,  but  whether  the  later  develop- 
ments are  superior  in  power  to  the  lower  ones. 

The  unfolding  of  the  human  race,  I  need  not  say,  at  first  is  purely 
physical.  Childi-en  are  born  as  mere  animals,  and  remain  for  a  year  or 
two  as  little  animals.  They  are  the  most  purely  animals  of  anything 
that  is  born,  at  the  beginning.  The  unfolding  is  gradual ;  and  the 
order  of  it  in  the  child  is,  first  physical,  then  social,  then  nascently  in- 
tellectual, and  last  of  all  moral.  This  last  we  hold  to  be  the  best, 
though  it  is  the  latest  ripe.  A  child  can  walk  and  use  its  hands,  and 
employ  all  its  physical  senses,  before  it  has  any  social  discriminations, 
affections,  or  instincts.  Childi-en  begin  to  come  along  pretty  soon ;  but 
they  are  very  feeble  at  fii'st.  The  child,  little  by  little,  in  the  ascending 
scale  of  development,  begins  to  have  intelligence,  and  soon  knows  the 
difference  between  friendliness  and  unfriendliness  ;  and  begins  to  live 
by  its  little  tastes  and  affections.  Still  later  the  child  begins  to  dis- 
criminate one  thing  from  another — to  perceive  the  differences  of  things. 
It  rises,  still  later,  to  an  understanding  of  cause  and  effect ;  to  a  percep- 
tion of  analogies ;  to  the  higher  forms  of  intellectual  discrimination 
And  last  of  all  it  comes  to  its  moral  nature.  For  children,  in  early  life, 
are  animals  not  only  because  they  live  by  theii'  animal  functions,  but  be- 
cause they  have  no  moral  sentiments.  Men  that  are  pure  and  noble  as 
men,  lied  like  witches  when  they  were  boys.  Their  moral  nature  was 
dormant — was  not  yet  developed.  This  is  the  order  which  we  see  in 
Ihe  household  ;  and  it  certainly  is  the  order  which  is  seen  in  history  as 
well — for  races  have  unfolded  in  precisely  the  same  way. 

And  that  which  is  true  of  individuals,  is  true  of  nations.  They  un- 
fold first  by  physical  force ;  next  by  social  refinement ;  next  by  philos- 
ophies and  higher  ranges  of  intellection  ;  and  last,  by  moral  elements — 
which  yet  linger  all  over  the  world.  The  last  is  the  highest.  It  takes 
the  longest  to   come  to  it :  it  takes  the  longest   world-disciplinf   to 


252  INHERITANCE  OF  TEE  MEEK. 

bring  it  out.  It  is  the  latest  to  be  born,  not  only  in  nations,  but  in  th« 
globe,  as  it  is  in  the  family  and  in  the  individual.  But  when  it  conies 
it  shall  be  the  best,  as  it  shall  be  the  strongest. 

This  is  the  order  of  value,  as  well  as  the  order  of  time,  in  develop- 
ment— first  physical,  then  social,  then  intellectual,  and  then  moral.  It 
is  a  rude  classification ;  but  it  is  sufiiciently  accurate  for  general  pur- 
poses. It  is  the  order  of  value,  or  of  estimation,  both  in  the  individu- 
al's own  consciousness,  and  among  his  friends. 

Where  men  have  been  developed  in  physical,  social  and  intellectual 
qualities,  they  themselves  value  those  qualities  in  just  that  order.  And 
they  ai'e  the  only  ones  that  are  competent  to  judge  of  them.  But 
where  men  have  been  developed  morally,  as  well  as  physically,  socially 
and  intellectually,  not  only  they  themselves,  but  all  others — even  those 
who  have  simply  a  rude,  twilight  understanding — are  able  to  estimate 
that  highest  form  of  development. 

Now  and  then  an  event  occurs  which  develops  the  latent  judgment 
of  men  in  respect  to  this  order  of  value.  While  I  was  yet  a  young 
man,  living  in  Cincinnati,  there  came  a  wandering  cii'cus  there,  in 
which  one  of  the  princij^al  athletes  was  a  man  built  like  a  second 
Apollo.  He  was  magnificent  in  every  physical  excellence,  and  as 
handsome  as  a  god.  A  young  lady  of  one  of  the  very  first  families 
there,  attracted  by  his  beauty  and  grace,  became  enamored  of  him. 
He,  of  course,  complimented,  reciprocated  this  wild  attachment.  And 
in  the  enthusiasm  and  ardor  of  her  unregulated  and  foolish  affection, 
she  proposed  an  elopement  to  him.  Ordinarily,  a  man  would  have  been 
more  than  proud — because  she  was  heu'  to  countless  wealth,  appai'- 
ently,  and  certainly  stood  second  to  none  there ;  but  with  an  unex- 
pected manliness,  that  surprised  eveiy  one,  he  said  to  her,  "  No,  I  can- 
not afford  to  have  you  despise  me.  I  am  older  than  you  are,  and,  al- 
though I  am  highly  complimented  and  pleased,  by-and-by  you  would 
reproach  me,  and  say  that  I  ought  to  have  taught  you  better,  and 
ought  to  have  done  otherwise.  I  will  cany  you  back  to  your  friends. 
I  will  not  permit  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  on  me."  And  he  refused  to 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  which  she  offered  him. 

Ten  thousand  men  admired  this  man's  athletic  skill  in  the  cu-cus ; 
but  when  that  story  was  known,  every  one  of  them  thought  infinitely 
more  of  him  than  they  did  before.  Here  were  two  traits.  First,  theroi 
was  the  physical  trait  of  gi'ace  and  power  as  an  athlete.  Everybody 
admu-ed  that.  But  when  there  rose  out  of  that  this  nobler  trait — this 
disinterestedness,  this  magnanimity,  this  great  and  unexpected  sense 
of  justice  and  rectitude,  and  men  saw  it,  they  thought  as  much  more  of 
him  as  it  was  possible  for  them  to  think.  And  though,  even  in  a  rude 
class  of  the  community,  when  a  man  addi-esses  himself  to  the  senses, 


INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK.  253 

everybody  aclmu-es  him  as  an  animal,  yet  if,  at  the  same  time,  he  de- 
velops a  truly  noble  and  manly  trait,  everybody  feels,  "  How  much 
higher  that  is !" 

Because  this  man  was  a  gymnast,  eveiybody  was  enthusiastic  over 
him ;  and  aftei-wards,  because  he  was  a  man,  they  recognized  the  manly 
element  in  him  as  nobler  than  the  animal.  So  that  once  in  a  while, 
even  in  a  mde  state  of  community,  among  the  commonest  peojile,  peo- 
ple of  the  least  power  of  moral  discrimination,  if  you  present  to  them  a 
case  in  which  the  contrast  is  sti'ong  and  sharp  between  the  higher  and 
the  lower,  they  appreciate  it.  All  men's  higher  sentiments  acknow- 
ledge that  the  higher  element,  not  merely  of  reason  or  of  obligation, 
but  of  loveliness,  of  desii'ableness,  or  of  praise  worthiness,  is  the  moral 
element,  when  they  see  the  tnith  purely. 

One  trouble  is  that  men  hear  a  great  deal  about  moi'al  qualities, 
but  do  not  see  much  of  them.  They  hear  ministers  preach  about  them, 
they  hear  church-members  talk  about  them,  and  they  wish  they  could 
see  them ;  but  unfortunately  moral  qualities  are  largely  in  the  ore ; 
they  are  adulterated ;  they  are  in  the  dross  ;  and  people  cannot  see 
them.  It  is  with  them  as  it  is  with  gold.  Because  they  come  in  the 
ore,  and  not  in  bars,  and  with  the  image  and  superscription  of  God  on 
them,  men  do  not  recognize  them.  But  they  will  recognize  them  Avhen 
they  have  a  chance  to  see  them.  The  rudest  men  recognize  that  there  is 
an  intrinsic  superiority  in  the  higher  over  the  lower  qualities  of  a  man. 

Even  in  barbarous  times  this  has  been  so.  If  we  examine  those 
histories  which  run  clear  back  to  the  earliest  and  fabulous  periods, 
we  find  that  the  things  which  men  have,  as  it  were,  cai-ried  in  their 
bosom  of  bosoms,  as  mothers  cany  theii-  babes,  have  not  been  the 
things  which  men  did  by  physical  violence.  To  be  sure,  Hercules, 
and  Theseus,  and  Samson,  and  other  such  great,  clumsy,  coarse,  brutal 
heroes,  have  had  a  place  in  the  world's  histoiy ;  but,  after  all,  there  is 
nothing  that  shines  with  so  pure  and  steady  a  light  of  universal  admir- 
ation as  the  story  of  friends  that  died  for  each  other ;  as  the  story  of 
Lucrece,  that  would  not  live  but  in  vu'tue ;  as  the  stoiy  of  Curtijis, 
who  would  gladly  give  his  life  for  patriotism — for  his  country.  "These 
heroic  and  glorious  acts  of  higher  morality  are,  after  all,  the  lamps 
which  burn  in  the  temple  of  history,  and  are  fed  by  the  admiration  of 
mankind  so  that  they  never  go  out.  And  they  show  that  even  in  i-ude 
ages,  if  you  can  bring  clearly  before  men  the  higher  exhibitions  of  hu- 
man nature,  in  contrast  with  the  lower,  eveiybody  recognizes  them, 
eveiybody  rejoices  in  them,  everybody  is  enthusiastic  over  them. 

Men  run  after  physical  things ;  they  are  excited  to  enthusiasm  by 
them ;  but  after  enough  time  is  given  them  for  reflection,  and  they 
have  come  into  their  best  moods,  they  still  recognize,  not,  unfortunately. 


254  INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

in  everything,  but  in  enough  things  to  show  that  they  have  the  power 
of  recognizing  it,  the  superiority  of  the  moral  over  all  that  is  below  it. 

This,  then,  if  you  look  at  it  naiTowly  or  particularly,  is  after  the 
order  of  historic  development.  Man  is  first  low  and  animal.  When 
he  imjjvoves  a  little,  he  becomes  social.  When  he  improves  still  more, 
he  becomes  intellectual.  When  he  improves  more  yet,  he  comes  into 
the  range  of  the  higher  moral  sentiments.  And  true  manhood  is  the 
blossom  and  fruit.  When  a  man  is  developed  in  the  higher  elements, 
he  is  not  strongest  at  the  bottom ;  he  is  not  strongest  in  the  middle  ; 
he  is  strongest  and  noblest  when  he  rises  to  that  which  comes  latest, 
and  with  the  most  difficulty. 

Men  are  by  nature  barbarians.  By  barbarians,  we  mean  creatures, 
or  people,  that  live  by  force  alone,  or  principally.  Then  they  become 
semi-civilized.  And  what  we  mean  by  a  nation's  being  semi -civilized, 
is,  that  there  is  infused  upon  force  a  principle  of  refinement,  both  in 
morals  and  in  civil  and  private  administration  ;  that  men  have  a  rational 
element  added  to  the  element  of  force.  Then  they  become  civilized. 
That  is,  so  to  say,  they  not  only  introduce  a  degi'ee  of  rationality,  but  pro- 
fess to  be  controlled  by  a  principle  of  equity  and  refinement,  as  well 
as  reason.  And  certainly,  none  will  deny  that  a  civilized  man  is  more 
truly  a  man  than  one  that  is  barbarous.     And  yet,  he  is  only  the  seed. 

Now  take  a  civUized  people,  take  men  in  civilized  societies,  and 
rank  them  according  to  the  order  of  theii*  moral  development,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  sum  of  force  which  there  is  in  then-  moral  development. 
In  a  civilized  community,  when  all  excitement  is  gone,  when  time  has 
been  given  for  men's  feelings  to  settle,  he  rises  to  the  top,  he  stands 
highest,  who  exhibits  the  most  of  the  moral  elements. 

In  our  own  history,  Aaron  Burr  was  a  keener  thinker  than  George 
Washington.  He  was  a  far  more  ingenious  man,  a  far  more  active 
man  :  and  if  he  had  been  a  moral  man,  and  had  maintained  normal  re- 
lations with  himself,  with  his  fellow  men,  and  with  the  laws  of  recti- 
tude, he  would  have  been  an  abler  man.  Washington  was  a  man  of 
good  sense,  but  he  was  not  a  man  of  genius  in  any  direction  except 
that  of  conscience.  He  was  a  man  of  singular  equity,  of  great  disin- 
terestedness, and  of  pure  and  upright  intent.  Sagacious  he  was,  by.  the 
light  which  comes  from  integiity.  He  endured,  having  faith  to  believe 
that  right  was  right,  that  right  was  safe,  and  that  right  in  the  end 
would  prevail.  That  which  made  Washington  the  only  great  hero  of 
our  Revolutionary  struggle,  was  the  light  of  the  moral  element  that 
was  in  him — not  any  intellectual  genius  which  he  possessed  ;  not  any 
peculiar  social  endowments  ;  not  any  rare  tact  in  administration,  nor 
any  remarkable  executive  power.  And  if  you  look  back  upon  those 
names  in  om*  history  that  have  best  stood  the  test,  you  will  find  that 


INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK.  255 

they  have  been  men  who  were  fruitful  in  the  highest  moral  elements. 
And  as  time  goes  on,  those  men  who  lack  these  elements  sink  lower 
and  lower  till  they  set  beiow  the  hoiizon  ;  and  those  men  who  possess 
them  rise  higher  and  higher,  till  they  reach  the  meridian,  with  undying 
splendor  to  shine  upon  history  and  the  world. 

So  tliere  is  a  rude  judgment-day  going  on  all  the  while ;  and  all 
men's  judgments,  when  they  have  time  to  think,  are  more  and  more 
concurring  in  this — that  "  the  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot,"  and  that 
"  the  memoiy  of  the  just  is  blessed." 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  disclosm-e  of  the  divine  decree.  We  per- 
ceive that  in  the  unfolding  series,  men  are  rising  in  value,  jDOwer,  and 
beauty,  just  in  proportion  as  they  give  strength  to  each  successive 
section  of  then*  natures. 

Men  have  supposed  that  to  rise  to  our  higher  feelings,  we  must 
quench  our  lower  feelings.  No  mistake  could  be  greater.  A  true  man 
is  one  who  has  physical  power,  social  richness,  intellectual  acumen,  and 
the  moral  elements.  The  moral  elements  are  not  at  all  antagonistic  to 
any  of  these  other  forces.  Once  let  a  man  be  harmonious  by  giving 
the  sway  to  his  higher  sentiments,  and  every  part  of  him  adds  both  to 
his  strength  and  to  his  richness. 

When  the  painter  lays  on  the  first  and  foundation  colors,  they  are 
not  to  stand  there  crude  and  rude.  He  goes  on  with  a  thousand  fine 
strokes,  overlaying  and  overlaying  them.  What  for?  To  Avipe  them 
out  ?  No.  They  are  the  foundation  which  is  to  make  the  final  pictm'e 
stand.  They  give  body  to  it ;  and,  shining  through,  they  give  it  a  sort 
of  subtle  lustre  Avhich  the  surface-colors  alone  could  not  give.  And  so 
it  is  in  true  manhood.  We  rise  higher  than  the  basilar  elements  ;  but 
we  never  want  them  destroyed.  We  want  the  hidden  power  which 
they  shoot  up  through.  We  want  them  to  give  energy,  and  breadtli, 
and  color,  and  warmth  to  all  the  moral  sentiments. 

When,  therefore,  a  man  becomes  a  perfect  man,  he  is  perfect  in  his 
lower  nature,  perfect  in  his  social  nature,  perfect  in  his  intellectual  na- 
ture, and  perfect  in  his  moral  nature — all  the  lower  serving  the  higher, 
and  the  higher  predominating,  and  giving  an  atmosphere  of  great 
power,  and  great  pcaceableness,  and  great  manhood,  and  great  blessed- 
ness therein. 
/  Now,  when  a  man  is  perfectly  covered  and  filled  with  the  perfec- 
tion of  these  sweet  and  higher  spiritual  elements,  he  is  meclv.  Some 
have  supposed  that  a  meek  man  was  one  who,  when  he  was  hit,  just 
did  not  hit  back.  I  despise  such  meekness  as  that.  To  be  lean  and 
rat-like,  running  round  in  the  holes  of  life,  is  not  to  be  meek.  Meek- 
ness is  tliat  great  luminousness  which  the  comjjlete  ascendancy  of  all 
the  higher  and  nobler  instincts  of  man  gives  to  the  whole  expressioK 


256  INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

of  his  life — to  liis  eye,  to  his  face,  to  his  words,  and  to  his  deeds.  It 
is  the  richness  of  the  divine  elements  in  a  man  that  makes  him  illustri- 
ous and  beautiful. 

Christ  was  meek.  "  I  am,"  he  said,  "  meek  and  lowly."  "  Learn 
of  me."  Was  there  ever  one  who  stood  in  more  personal  majesty  than 
he  did  ?  Was  there  ever  one  who  had  more  clearness  of  understanding 
than  he  had  ?  Was  there  ever  one  who  had  more  finimess  of  will  than 
he  had  ?  Was  there  ever  one  who  exhibited  more  significantly  than 
he  did  the  very  pattern  and  ideal  of  perfect  manhood  %  He  was  meek, 
because  that  which  constitutes  meekness  is  the  full  expression  of  the 
harmony  of  all  the  moral  sentiments. 

In  view  of  this  exjjosition,  I  remark, 

1.  The  spread  of  Chi-ist's  kingdom  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  materializing  theologians  have  supposed.  It  is  not  oveiTunning 
the  earth  externally.  This  world  might  have  a  church  in  every  village, 
with  the  Westminster  Catechism,  and  as  sou/.d  a  preacher  as  ever 
preached  from  any  pulpit ;  and  every  man,  woman  and  child  might  be 
requu-ed  to  say  the  Catechism  every  day,  and  yet  the  whole  set  of  them 
might  be  heathen ;  because  it  is  not  mere  intellectual  submission  to 
certain  views  that  makes  the  world  Christian.  The  world  is  Christian 
just  in  the  proportion  in  which,  in  its  individuals,  and  in  its  communi- 
ties, the  higher  elements  of  the  human  soul  entu-ely  dominate. 

If  you  ask  me  whether,  considered  instrumentally,  it  is  not  likely 
that  evangelical  churches  and  sound  orthodox  belief  will  tend  to  free 
a  man  from  the  bondage  of  his  lower  natm-e,  and  raise  him  to  a 
higher  moral  state,  I  say.  Yes.  They  are  excellent  tools  to  work  with. 
Nevertheless,  as  many  a  farmer  has  had  a  barn  full  of  tools  which  he 
did  not  use,  and  has  had  poor  crops,  so  orthodoxy  and  evangelical  or- 
ganizations may  have  but  little  power  on  the  earth.  You  may  sj)read 
them  round  and  round  the  globe ;  and  yet,  Christianity  may  not 
spread.  Christianity  works  vertically  as  well  as  horizontally.  It 
spreads  over  the  eaiih — for  eveiy where  Christ  is  to  be  known  and 
preached ;  but  it  spreads  in  the  proportion  in  which  it  elevates  the 
whole  natm-e  of  each  individual  man.  And  it  elevates  him  in  the 
proportion  in  which  it  holds  the  emphasis  of  authority  iu  his  es- 
timation. With  us  authority  is  in  the  physical  and  material  part 
of  our  nature.  We  are  amplified  and  refined  as  we  go  up  and 
begin  to  hold  in  check  all  the  physical  endowments ;  all  the  social  ele- 
ments ;  all  the  interests  of  pride  and  vanity  ;  all  the  degrading  effects 
of  organized  society-life.  We  are  not  Christian  until  we  rise  so  high 
that  it  is  not  even  the  affections  that  rule  any  more — untU  we  rise  so 
high  that  the  moral  sentiments  are  supreme.  It  is  love  in  all  its  benig- 
nities and  beneficences,  it  is  faith  in  all  its  ideaUties  and  aspu-ations,  it 


INHERITANCE  OF  TEE  MEEK.  257 

b  hope  in  all  its  courage  and  cheerfulness  and  buoyancy,  that  consti- 
tutes Christianity.  Christianity  is  not  as  flat  as  uncorked  beer,  as  many 
people  seem  to  think  it  is.  A  man  who  merely  does  not  do  any  hurt — • 
is  he  a  Christian  ?  A  man  that  is  simply  harmless — is  he  a  Christian  ? 
Then  a  griddle-cake  is  a  better  Christian  than  anything  else.  It  does 
not  do  any  hurt.  Let  it  get  cold,  and  it  will  not  even  bui-n  you.  There 
are  many  men  who  are  flat,  cold,  stale,  and  unprofitable  ;  and  it  is  sup- 
posed, because  they  do  not  do  any  harm,  that  they  are  Christians.  No ! 
A  Christian  sparkles.  He  is  full  of  fire  ;  but  it  is  a  fire  that  does  not 
bm-n.  He  is  full  of  power ;  but  it  is  a  power  that  does  not  thunder. 
He  is  full  of  life ;  but  it  is  a  life  that  develops  itself  in  higher  and  not 
in  lower  forms — in  things  that  go  to  make  him  a  man  in  Christ  Jesus. 

If  you  think  that  when  Christianity  comes  into  a  man's  soul,  it 
makes  him  smaller,  if  you  think  it  minifies  him,  you  are  mistaken. 
When  Christianity  comes  into  a  man's  soul  it  magnifies  him  ;  it  en- 
larges him ;  it  ennobles  him.  When  you  become  a  Christian,  you 
simply  shift  the  balance  of  power,  taking  it  out  of  the  hand,  and  jDutting 
it  into  the  brain  ;  taking  it  out  of  the  lower  nature,  and  putting  it  into 
the  higher  reason,  into  the  love  principle,  and  into  the  spiritualizing 
elements.  And  when  a  man  has  changed  the  seat  of  authority  so  that 
that  which  is  above  dominates,  then  he  has  becomB  a  Christian. 

Can  a  man  become  a  Christian  without  acknowledging  Christ? 
Just  as  far  toward  it  as  an  apple  can  ripen  without  acknowledging  the 
sun.  An  apple  can  grow,  an'd  get  size,  and  get  shape,  and  get  juice 
without  the  shining  of  the  sun  ;  but  I  will  defy  any  apple  to  get  sweet- 
ness out  of  that  juice,  I  will  defy  any  apple  to  change  its  sour  sap  into 
sweet  sap,  until  it  has  had  the  sun  shining  on  it.  And  no  man  can  be- 
come a  Christian  without  the  supernal  light. 

But  I  believe  many  a  man  gets  that  light  who  does  not  know  where 
he  gets  it.  In  other  words,  that  which  I  believe  to  be  Christ,  many  a 
man  calls  "  God,"  or  "  Father ;"  and  he  gets  that  divine  light,  that 
ripening  spiritual  influence,  by  which  the  sour  saj)  changes  to  saccharine 
sap.  So  that  a  man  may  recognize  not  the  name,  but  only  the  power ; 
and  getting  the  power,  he  gets  the  thing.  Yet,  no  man  can  be  a 
Chi'istian  except  under  the  influence  of  the  light  which  comes  from 
above. 

You  may  carry  a  lighted  candle  into  a  conservatoiy ;  but  it  will 
coax  out  no  blossom.  If,  however,  you  let  the  sun  shine  in  on  the 
plants,  a  thousand  blossoms  will  come  out  at  once.  And  there  is  no 
mere  human  element  that  will  ever  bring  out  the  blossoms  of  the  soul. 
You  must  get  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  to  shine  into  the  soul  if  you 
would  have  it  blossom. 

A  man  may  stumble  about  a  name,  or  about  a  philosophy ;  but  the 


258  INEEBITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

thing  itself  is  that  which  develops  the  lower  part  of  a  man,  and  that 
without  which  there  is  no  development  of  it. 

2.  If  you  look  at  it  in  this  way,  there  has  been  an  immense  devel- 
opment made  toward  the  ascendancy  of  the  moral  elements  in  this 
woi'ld.  Consider  where,  in  the  time  of  our  Saviom-,  when  he  said, 
"  Blessed  are  the  meek ;  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth,"  the  great  ele- 
ments of  power  resided.  All  modern  Europe  *had  no  existence,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes.  Hispania  lay  in  darkness.  All  Italy  lay  in  pa- 
ganism. It  was  strong  in  military  and  art  elements ;  but  it  was  heathen 
It  was  powerful,  but  cruel  and  hard.  Rome  was  the  insignia  of  power, 
with  a  stronger  element  of  the  physical  than  of  the  intellectual  or  tha 
moral.  Gaul  was  a  vast  wilderness.  All  Britain  was,  as  it  were,  sunk 
below  the  horizon.  And  this  continent  was  not  known.  The  powei 
lay  in  Italy  ;  in  Greece  ;  in  Palestine.  In  them  was  the  substantia? 
power  of  the  world.  They  were  all  heathen.  Everything  else  was. 
gloom,  gloom  ! 

Two  thousand  years  have  nearly  passed  away.  Rome  has  gone  un- 
der. Greece  has  gone  under.  Palestine  has  gone  under.  Egypt  has 
gone  under.  Syria  has  gone  under.  The  elevations  have  all  sunk  be- 
low the  level.  You  cannot  see  them  anywhere.  And  what  have  come 
up  ?  The  nations  that  are  the  most  Christian ;  the  nations  that  repre- 
sent the  highest  moral  ideas ;  all  Christian  nations  which  are  highest, 
which  are  freest,  which  are  best  governed. 

"Where  is  life  securest?  Where  is  property  most  facile  of  acquire- 
ment, and  most  stable  in  using  ?  In  those  nations  that  reach  highest 
uj)  in  intelligent  Christianity.  I  do  not  say  it  for  the  sake  of  invidious 
comparisons ;  but  show  me  a  nation  in  which  Christianity  is  most  in 
its  ecclesiasticisms,  in  which  it  is  most  in  hierarchal  hands,  and  I  will 
show  you  a  nation  that  is  lower  in  industry,  lower  in  thrift,  and  louver 
in  the  popular  power,  than  nations  contiguous,  in  which  the  heart  is 
unbound,  and  the  understanding  is  enlightened,  and  the  conscience  is 
free.  Just  in  proportion  as  nations  have  developed  the  higher  qualities 
of  the  moral  nature  of  man,  they  have  gone  up  in  power,  and,  I  think, 
^ai"e  to  go  up. 

There  have  been  some  elements  developed  in  our  great  struggle 
which  Ave  ought  not  to  forbear  to  emphasize.  In  the  first  place,  there 
are  nations  on  the  globe  that  have  been  warring  from  time  immemorial; 
but  there  is  not  one  of  them  that  could  ever  hare  gathered  such 
armies  for  so  long  a  period  of  time — armies,  too,  th;it  coiild  be  gath- 
ered only  by  the  consent  of  the  governed — as  were  gathered  in  this 
nation.  Such  armies  could  not  be  gathered  except  in  a  nation  where 
the  reason  and  conscience  were  free,  and  where  religion  had  been  the 
culture   of  the  people  from  the  very  cradle.      And  when  they  were 


INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK.  259 

galUbred,  what  patience  and  long  enduran(e  were  required  to  support 
them  !  What  vast  tides  of  taxes  were  demanded  !  These  taxes  had 
to  be  voted  by  the  men  that  paid  them ;  and  yet,  how  they  flowed  in 
like  Gulf  Sireams  !  And  how  did  men's  fortitude  grow  to  the  last ! 
For  I  tliink  the  people  were  never  so  determined  as  in  the  later  stages 
of  this  war.  The  rulers,  for  the  most  part,  were  fainter  hearted  than 
the  people.  And  it  was  one  of  the  significant  excellences  of  that  man 
whose  head  lies  low  to-day,  that,  standing  in  a  place  of  eminent  author- 
ity, he  was  full}'  up  to,  and  really  beyond  the  courage  and  determina- 
tion of  the  great  common  people.  He  was  that  man  who  gave  power, 
and  faith,  and  marrow,  and  foix-e,  to  all  the  departments  of  government. 
I  think  we  owe  more  to  Edwin  M.  Stanton  for  the  final  victories  of 
the  struggle,  than  to  any  or  all  other  men  that  Avielded  pen  or  s^\•ord. 
And  I  believe  that  by-and  by  his  name,  instead  of  being  covered  with 
clouds  and  going  lower,  will  rise  from  those  prejudices  which  came  from 
an  infelicitous  manner,  and  stand  higher  and  higher  among  the  stars  in 
our  patriotic  firmament,  not  far  from  the  great  unquenched  orb  of 
TVashi  ngton. 

Consider,  too,  how,  since  the  paroxysm,  the  confusion  and  the  pas- 
sion of  om-  great  conflict  have  passed  away,  the  conscience  of  the  na- 
tion has  stood  steadfastly  to  national  equity.  Our  war,  like  all  wars, 
threw  up  mire  and  dut.  I  think  there  has  been  a  vast  amount  of  evil 
occasioned  by  the  war.  We  are  now  combatting  pecuniary  briberies 
which  came  from  the  immense  contract  system  of  the  army.  And  con- 
sider how,  though  we  are  tainted  and  specked  here  and  there,  that  fun- 
damental integrity  which  has  had  so  long  a  fight,  maintams  itself  still, 
and  is  bound  that  faith  shall  be  kept  with  every  creditor  of  the  nation. 
There  are  thirty  millions  of  people,  widely  divided  by  parties;  and  large 
sections  of  them  are  interested  to  destroy  the  credit  of  the  loan  occa- 
sioned by  the  war ;  but  such  is  the  force  of  moral  principle  in  this  na- 
tion, that,  though  free  as  the  wind,  they  stand  as  firm  as  the  hills,  and 
say,  '■'■Faith  shall  be  kept!"  Where  has  that  conscience  come  from? 
What  education  has  brought  us  to  it?  Here  is  a  democratic  people, 
fi-ee  in  institutions,  free  in  laws,  and  whose  word  is  law — for  who  shall 
gainsay  the  omnipotence  of  the  decisions  of  this  people  ;  and  yet, 
they  are  not  coerced,  nor  bribed,  nor  mtimidated ;  but  by  some  in- 
ward moving  principle,  they  have  said,  "  Faith  shall  be  ilept  !" 

Are  these  things  to  be  unmarked  ?  Has  the  end  come  to  such  ideas 
of  national  conscience  ?  It  is  the  freest  nation  of  the  globe  that  says 
these  things.  I  aflftrm  thflt  at  no  former  period  of  the  Avorld  could 
such  a  phenomenon  have  been  found.  And  this  is  one  of  the  indica- 
tions that  the  nation  itself  is  more  Christianized  than  people  think. 
There  is  yet  a  great  deal  to  be  done  yet.     We  are  not  a  perfect  nation. 


260  INHEllITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

What  I  am  interested  to  show,  is,  that  we  are  growing  in  the  riobt 
dii-ection,  and  that  Christianity  is  doing  its  work.  I  desire  to  show, 
not  that  we  have  become  meek,  but  that  we  are  developing  in  the  di- 
rection of  meekness — ^that  we  are  rising  from  the  animal,  through  the 
social  and  intellectual,  toward  the  moral  and  the  spuitual  elements  ! 

In  looking  over  the  world,  I  see,  not  alone  in  this,  but  in  every  de- 
partment of  life,  as  society  is  organized,  the  development  of  the  same 
traits.  Business  begins  to  develop  them.  It  has  become  almost  a  tru- 
ism that  no  art  is  permanent  that  has  not  a  moral  element  in  it.  The 
same  thing  is  true  in  regard  to  pleasure.  Pleasures  do  not  satisfy  which 
have  not  in  them  a  moral  element  It  is  so  with  business.  It  is  com- 
ing to  be  understood  that  business  has  rights.  It  is  so,  likewise  in 
diplomacy.  Diplomacy  is  no  longer  the  cunning  thing  that  it  has  been. 
Whereas  it  used  to  be  a  trap  in  whose  meshes  men  sought  to  catch 
each  other,  it  is  now  becoming  honest  in  every  direction.  And  you 
shall  find  that  all  through  the  various  organizations  of  society  the  same 
tendency  is  manifesting  itself  Development  is  everywhere  along  the 
same  line — from  the  lower  toward  the  higher ;  from  the  animal  and 
coarse,  toward  the  moral  and  spiritual;  from  the  law  of  violence,  to- 
ward the  law  of  reason  and  right. 

And  this  development  is  broader  than  it  ever  was.  It  is  in  its 
youth  yet.  It  is  full  of  activity.  And  the  world  is  going  on  to  fulfill 
the  declaration  of  Christ,  "  Blessed  are  the  meek ;  for  they  shall  in- 
herit the  earth."  By-and-by — slowly — the  time  is  coming  when  men 
will  be  more  honored  than  they  ever  were.  The  time  is  coming  when 
good  men  that  have  power  withal  will  stand  higher  than  ever.  The 
time  is  coming  when  we  shall  have  good  men  eveiywhere.  The  last 
thing  I  suppose,  that  will  be  conquered,  wUl  be  the  temptations  of 
the  State  itself  The  temptations  of  power,  and  the  temptations  which 
cluster  around  the  revenues,  are  so  great  that  it  is  hard  for  human  na^- 
ture  to  stand  up  under  them ;  and  the  last  thing,  probably,  that  will 
be  truly  just  and  truly  spuitual,  will  be  the  administration  of  laws  and 
political  tiusts.  And  yet,  by-and-by  the  time  will  come  when  we  shall 
have  better  magistrates,  and  better  legislators,  and  better  administra- 
tors, throughout  society.  And  then  business,  in  all  its  parts,  will  work 
from  the  law  of  force  up  to  the  law  of  right ;  pleasure  will  work  up  ; 
literature  will  work  up ;  art  will  work  up  ;  and  administration  ilself  will 
work  up.  By-and-by  the  time  will  come  when  good  men,  sublime  and 
sweet,  will  be  dominant  in  aU  the  earth. 

Some  men  call  this  the  milleniwn.  Call  it  what  you  will.  It  is 
the  ripeness  of  the  race.  It  is  the  final  state  toward  which  all  people 
are  working.  It  is  said  of  the  Master  that  '"  his  face  was  as  though  he 
would  go  to  Jerusalem  ;"  and  the  world's  face,  to-day,  is  as  though  i% 


INHERITANCE  OF  TEE  MEEK.  2G1 

iDOuld  go  toward  the  New  Jerusalem.  The  way  is  dark,  but  it  is 
opening.  More  and  more  the  lines  of  light  are  appearing.  It  is  twi- 
light yet ;  but  the  sun  is  not  far  below  the  horizon.  Come,  0  Sun  o± 
Righteousness !     Arise,  with  healing  in  thy  beams  ! 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

"We  are  drawn  to  thee,  our  Heavenly  Father.  Even  as  the  flowers  are  drawn  to  the 
lun,  tney  know  not  why,  so  our  souls  rise  toward  theo,  without  thinking — without  the 
consciousness  of  foregoing  want — by  the  direction  of  thy  nature;  by  the  want  of  our 
own  which  answers  to  thine.  And  so,  unconsciously,  we  cry,  "Abba,  Father."  So  in 
our  deepest  want,  and  in  our  highest  joy,  thou  art  our  Friend — the  Friend  that  feeds 
the  soul,  and  meeis  its  want  and  aspiration,  and  gives  it  joy.  We  have  so  long  known 
thee,  we  have  so  long  felt  thy  presence,  thy  life  has  so  long  been  mixed  with  ours,  that 
we  begin  to  know  something  of  that  divine  unity  which  thou  hast  promised  us.  And  it 
is  nothing  of  ourselves,  but  that  of  thee  which  is  in  us,  which  gives  us  patience  and 
forbearance  against  provocation;  which  raises  us,  when  men  assault  us,  into  joy,  rather 
than  plunges  us  into  sorrow;  which  takes  from  us  the  hurt  and  the  sting  of  humiliation 
in  bankruptcy  and  loss;  which  brings  us  near  to  tnee,  by  the  things  vrhich  men  call 
destroying.  It  is  thy  spirit  which  is  unsealing  the  eye;  which  is  opening  boundless 
riches  beyond  and  above  the  senses.  It  is  thy  spirit  which  is  making  the  vast  and  tho 
impalpable  clear  and  easily  to  be  discerned  by  that  inward  nature  of  ours.  It  is  thy 
spirit  that  is  peopling  the  heavens,  and  bringing  forth  to  our  summons  multitudes, 
among  whom  fly  blessed  spirits  that  were  our  own,  that  have  been  released  from  the  im- 
prisoning body,  that  dwell  with  thee,  and  that  are  above  the  stars,  and  brighter  than 
they,  and  are  as  the  children  of  God.  And  yet,  they  are  ours — ou/s  by  memory ;  ours  by 
yearning;  ours  by  all  our  heart-claspings;  and  ours  forever,  because  they  are  thine. 
They  are  God's;  and  all  things  that  are  his  are  thine;  and  all  that  is  thine  is  om-s— for 
wo  are  one  with  thee. 

"We  rejoice  that  thus,  not  according  to  the  measure  of  our  knowledge,  but  according 
to  the  measure  of  thine  own  knowledge,  thou  art  filling  us  with  all  the  fulness  of  tho 
Godhead  bodily.  Thou  art  dealing  thy  mercies  out  to  us,  not  according  to  the  measure 
of  desire  on  our  part,  but  according  to  the  measure  of  thine  own  wisdom.  As  we  deal 
with  our  children,  and  do  for  them,  and  compel  them  to  do  the  things  which  we  know 
will  ennoble  their  manhood,  and  plant  thick  now  the  seeds  which  shall  bring  forth  the 
ftuit  of  joy  by-and-by,  overruling  their  impatience,  and  disappointing  their  hopes  to- 
day;  so  art  thou  acting  according  to  thy  wisdom,  and  oveiTuling  our  short-sighted  de- 
sires, and  quenching  our  prayers  with  sorrows  that  seem  to  us  enmities  at  the  time,  but 
which  abound  iu  the  love  of  God,  and  bring  lorth  glorious  fruit  in  us  by-and-by.  We 
have  learned  that  no  affliction  is  for  the  present  joyous,  but  grievous,  but  that  afterwards 
it  woiketh  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  in  them  which  are  exercised  thereby, 

O  thou  God  of  the  dark  baud  !  smite  on.  O  thou  God  of  the  mysterious  wisdom ! 
still  legislate  for  us.  O  thou  round  about  whose  throne  are  clouds  and  darkness !  ride 
forth,  and  be  supreme  over  us  and  all  the  earth.  Thy  will  be  done.  Though  our  pride 
tremble;  though  our  selfishness  weary  itself  with  resistence;  though  our  vanity  is 
pierced,  and  moans;  though  our  inordinate  afl'ections  sufler,  thy  will  be  done.  Yet  deal 
gently.  Build  us  up  not  too  fust.  Let  us  not  be  quite  destroyed  when  we  are  cast  down. 
Lift  us  again  from  beneath  thy  bruising  blow,  and  thy  wounds,  and  bring  us  health, 
that  wo  may  rejoice  in  the  mercy  of  our  God.  Thou  wilt.  Thou  wilt  not  forget  the 
bruised  reed.  Thou  art  so  geutle  that  thine  utmost  desire  breathed  forth  shall  not 
quench  the  smoking  flax  until  thou  oring  forth  judgment  unto  victory. 

Even  so,  Lord  Jesus  we  surrender  ourselves  to  thy  care.  We  pray  for  thy  watching. 
We  implore  thy  spirit  to  be  breathed  on  all  our  inward  life.    We  ask  that  we  may  live 


2G2  INHERITANCE  OF  THE  MEEK. 

in  such  a  spiritual  vision  that  heaven  shall  be  apparent,  and  that  we  may  see  Him  who 
is  invisible,  and  that  we  may  dominate  the  earth  by  the  power  of  faith  in  the  world  to 
come. 

Draw  near,  we  beseech  of  thee,  to  all  those  whose  outward  strength  fails;  to  those 
who  drink  a  bitter  cup;  to  those  whose  burden  seems  at  times  greater  than  they  can 
bear.  Thou  with  inward  strength  canst  gird  them  tor  the  battle,  and  cause  them,  when 
they  have  done  all,  still  to  stand  and  be  steadfast  unto  the  end.  But  grant  that  troubles 
and  sorrows  may  not  come  and  go  without  beuetit.  May  wo  not  be  so  afraid  of  being 
afflicted,  as  of  being  afflicted  without  profit.  May  all  our  sorrows  ripen  is.  Even  as 
acerb  fruits  late  in  autumn  will  not  sweeten  until  the  frost  has  fallen  upon  them,  and 
then  they  turn  their  glowing  check  to  the  sun,  and  grow  rich;  so  when  thou  dost  send 
thy  frosts  upon  us,  grant  that  we  may  grow  sweeter  and  riper  under  them.  May  we  bo 
more  gentle  and  have  more  faith  in  invisible  things.  May  the  outward  world  have  less 
dominion  over  our  senses.  May  we  count  mantiood  to  be  higher  up.  May  we  seek  the 
things  which  are  above,  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  where  Christ  sitteth. 

And  so  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  to  us,  during  this  year  upon  which  we  are  soon 
to  enter,  more  blessings  than  thou  hast  during  the  year  which  is  issuing  and  perishing. 
Thou  hast  made  this  year  one  of  great  mercies;  but  we  pray  that  we  maj-  more  than 
ever  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

Thou  hast  blessed  this  church,  and  gathered  into  it  multitudes  of  such  as  shall  bo 
saved;  but  we  beseech  of  thee  that  this  year  may  be  barren  of  blessings  to  this  church, 
as  compared  with  the  year  which  is  to  come.  More  may  ttiere  be  that  shall  be  brought 
from  darkness  to  light;  more  singing  souls  may  there  be  that  shall  rejoice  in  the  new- 
found mercy  of  God.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  come  and  bring  joy  into 
all  our  dwellings.  And  if  we  wear  the  garments  of  afiiiction,  still  wo  beseech  of  thee 
that  we  may  have  joy  in  our  sorrow,  and  songs  in  our  night. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  our  families.  May 
tney  be  more  and  more  households  of  faith.  May  they  be  more  and  more  gates  of 
leaven  to  us.  And  we  pray  that  all  the  sanctities  of  love  may  abound  in  them.  And 
may  we  be  nourished  as  in  thine  own  peculiar  church,  and  in  thy  very  favored  dwelling. 
In  every  household  may  we  be  nourished,  so  that  we  shall  be  fitted  for  that  rest  which 
remaincth  for  the  people  of  God. 

We  pray  for  our  laud.  Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  thy  blessing  may  rest  upon 
the  President  ol  these  United  States,  and  upon  all  who  are  associated  with  him  in  au- 
thority;  upon  Congress  assembled;  upon  the  Legislatures  of  the  vadous  States;  upon 
all  courts  and  magistrates.  And  grant  that  all  that  hold  office  may  be  men  who  shall 
fear  God,  and  whom  God  shall  love.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  as  one  and  another  whom 
thou  hast  ordained  with  great  strength  and  wisdom  are  passing  away,  we  may  not  be 
unmindful  of  thy  favors  to  us  ui  the  men  of  our  day  who  have  borne  the  burden  aud  the 
heat  thereof  ujaufuUy.  We  thank  thee  for  so  many  who  have  set  examples  to  men,  of 
integrity,  and  of  might  in  well-doing.  And  we  pray  that  there  may  be  found  others 
upon  whom  their  mantle  shall  worthily  fall.  Let  us  not  bo  left  unrich  in  mauhood. 
Destroy  our  ships;  destroy  our  dwellings;  but  grant  that  poverty  may  not  come  upon 
manhood  in  this  nation.  Raise  up  nobler  men — men  that  shall  scorn  bribes;  men  that 
shall  not  run  greedily  to  ambition;  men  that  shall  not  be  devoured  by  selfi-hness;  men 
that  shall  fear  God  and  love  man ;  men  that  shall  love  this  uation  with  a  pure  aud  disin- 
terested love.  And  so  webesoeehof  thee  that  our  peace  may  stand  firm  upon  integrity, 
and  that  righteousness  may  everywhere  prevail.  And  in  its  greatness  save  this  nation 
from  cruelty.  May  we  not  imitate  the  bad  examples  which  we  abhor,  and  lift  up  the 
hand  of  our  might  to  beat  down  the  weak  and  the  needy.  At  last  may  there  be  found 
one  nation  dwelling  in  peace,  that  shall  stand  to  succor  and  defend  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  and  to  spread  abroad  all  the  blessings  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  And  so  may 
thy  kingdom  come,  and  thy  will  be  done  in  all  the  earth,  that  wars  shall  cease,  that 
ignorance  shall  flee  away,  that  superstition  shall  die,  that  intelligence,  and  virtue,  and 
piety  shall  thrive,  and  that  thy  supremacy  shall  be  established  on  the  earth. 

pAjid  to  thy  name,  Father,  Sou  and  Spirit,  shall  be  praises  evermore.    Amen. 


XVII. 

Memorials  of  Divine  Mercy. 


INVOCATION. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  for  the  refuge,  while  storms  darken  the  air 
without,  which  we  find  in  this  temple  of  God.  Here  is  the  light  of  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness.  Here  is  the  unclouded  morning.  Here  thou  art  a  per- 
petual spring,  going  no  further  than  the  summer,  forever  bright,  growing 
fruitful  and  blessed.  And  we  are  glad  to  be  separated,  as  by  a  wall  of  dark-* 
ness,  from  the  great  troubled  world  without,  and  shut  up  unto  thee  and 
thine  eternal  youth  and  beauty ;  to  thy  love  and  grace ;  to  thy  mercy  which 
is  without  bound.  Vouchsafe,  then,  this  morning,  that  blessing  which 
maketh  rich  and  addeth  no  sorrow.  And  to  all  thy  past  mercies,  add  the 
assurance  of  goodness  in  time  to  come.  Bless  us  In  the  service  of  the  sanc- 
tuary ;  in  the  instruction  which  we  shall  endeavor  together  to  receive ;  in 
the  offices  of  devotion  which  we  offer.  And  grant  that  all  the  services  of 
the  day,  whether  here  or  in  our  several  homes,  may  be  inspired  of  thee,  and 
blessed  by  thee,  and  accepted  by  thee.  "Which  we  ask  for  Christ's  sake. 
Amen. 


/f 


MEMOEIALS  OF  DIVINE  MEECY. 


"  Then  Samuel  took  a  stone,  and  set  it  between  Mizpeh  and  Shen,  and  called  the  name  of  it 
Bbon-ezer,  saying,  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  us."    1  Sam.  VII.  12. 


After  the  death  of  Eli,  the  prophet,  Samuel  not  only  became  priest,  ^ 
but,  in  the  anomalous  condition  of  the  Israelitish  kingdom,  he  became  ' 
substantially  the  sole  ruler.  The  regular  government  seems  to  have 
fallen  enth-ely  to  the  ground — partly  because  the  people  were  in  such 
an  ignorant  and  degi'aded  state  that  they  were  unable  to  maintain  a 
regular  form  of  government  such  as  theu's  was.  For  the  old  Hebrew 
government  was  substantially  a  commonwealth — ^a  republican  gov- 
ernment. It  had  in  it  the  seeds  and  roots  of  that  very  government 
which  now  exists  over  us.  But  the  people,  not  instnicted,  and  easily 
seduced  from  their  allegiance  to  vutue  and  religion,  had  been  shattered 
by  the  aggi'ession  of  neighboring  nations,  and  of  those  whom  they  had 
failed  to  expel  from  within  theii'  borders,  and  had  been  reduced  to  a 
very  low  condition — one  of  great  misery.  Theii*  veiy  ark  had  been 
captured,  and  earned  away  (although  it  was  ultimately  recovered  and 
saved);  and  they  were  in  degradation,  and  under  extreme  oppression. 
It  Avas  at  this  time  that  Samuel  appeared,  not  simply  as  the  judge, 
making  circuit,  and  as  the  priest,  making  sacrifice,  but  as  the  leader  of 
the  people.  Hearing  then'  lamentations,  and  profoundly  afiected,  as 
every  gi-eat  soul  that  loves  his  countiy  must  be  by  its  sufiering  and 
degradation,  he  called  the  people  together  to  Mizpeh,  and  then  declared 
to  them  the  way  of  the  Lord.  And  there  the  people  confessed  their 
great  miseiy  and  their  sin. 

"  Samuel  spake  nnto  all  the  honse  of  Israel,  saying,  If  ye  do  return  unto  the  Lord 
•with  all  your  hearts,  then  put  away  the  strange  gods,  and  Ashteroth  from  among  you, 
end  prepare  your  hearts  unto  the  Lord,  and  serve  him  only,  and  he  will  deliver  you  out 
fit  the  hand  of  the  Philistines.  Then  the  children  of  Israel  did  put  away  Baalim,  and 
Ashteroth,  and  served  the  Lord  only.  And  Samuel  said,  gather  all  Israel  to  Mizpeh, 
and  I  will  pray  for  you  unto  the  Lord.  And  they  gathered  together  to  Mizpeh,  and 
Irew  water,  and  poured  it  out  before  the  Lord,  and  fasted  on  that  day,  and  said  there. 
We  have  sinned  against  the  Lord.  And  Samuel  judged  the  children  of  Israel  in  Mizpeh." 

When  it  is  said  that  they  "  di-ew  water,  and  poured  it  out  before 

the  Lord,"  we  are  to  understand  that  this  was  the  Oriental  method. 

Symbols  in  the  Oriental  method  were  what  language  is  in  our  instruc- 

SuNiuT  Morning,  Jan.  2,  1870.  Lesson:  2  Cob.  V.  Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) 
JSoB.  199,  907. 


264  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY. 

tion — words  being  only  symbols.  And  the  Israelites,  to  express  the 
brokenness  of  their  hearts,  to  convey  the  idea  that  then-  hearts  were 
melted  within  them,  poured  out  loater,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  So  oiu* 
hearts  flow  out  before  God." 

We  find  frequent  recognition  of  this  in  the  Psalms : 
"  I  am  poured  out  like  water."    "  My  heart  is  like  wax.  It  is  melted  in  the  midst  of 
my  bowels." 

In  Lamentations,  Jeremiah  says  : 

"  In  the  beginning  of  the  watches  pour  out  thy  heart  like  water  before  the  face  of 
the  Lord." 

So  that  the  statement,  that  they  "  drew  water,  and  jjoured  it  out 
before  the  Lord,"  merely  signifies  that,  by  a  symbolic  act,  they  expressed 
before  God  this  profound  gi'ief,  and  their  penitence. 

It  is  said  that  at  this  time  "  Samuel  judged  the  childi-en  of  Israel 
The  whole  nation  was  full  of  wrongs,  and  unsettled  quarrels,  and  com 
plaints,  and  feuds,  and  a  thousand  entanglements  which  grow  up  undei 
malign  feeling.  And  he  settled  everything,  and  harmonized  the  peo- 
ple, and  made  justice  among  them,  so  that  they  felt  that  the  past  was 
settled,  and  that  they  had  now  a  new  future  before  them. 

"  And  when  the  Philistines  heard  that  the  children  of  Israel  had  gathered  together 
to  Mizpch,  the  lords  of  the  Philistines  went  up  against  Israel.  And  when  the  children 
of  Israel  heard  it,  they  were  afraid  of  the  Philistines.  And  the  children  of  Israel  said  to 
Samuel,  cease  not  to  cry  unto  the  Lord  our  God  for  us,  that  he  will  save  us  out  of  the 
hand  of  the  Philistines.  And  Samuel  took  a  sucking  lamb,  and  offered  it  for  a  burnt" 
offering  wholly  unto  the  Lord;  and  Samuel  cried  unto  the  Lord  for  Israel;  and  the  Lord 
heard  him.  And  as  Samuel  was  oftering  up  the  burnt-offering,  the  Philistines  drew  near 
to  battle  against  Israel;  but  the  Lord  thundered  with  a  great  thunder  on  that  day  upon 
the  Philistines,  and  discomfited  them;  and  they  were  smitten  before  Israel.  And  the 
men  of  Irsael  went  out  of  Mizpeh,  and  pursued  the  Philistines,  and  emote  them,  until 
they  came  under  Bethcar.  Then  Samuel  took  a  stone,  and  set  it  between  Mizpeh  and 
Shen,  and  called  the  name  of  it  Eben-ezer,  saying,  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  us." 

This  follows  in  the  line  of  other  such  like  uses  of  rude  monuments. 
When  the  Israelites  crossed  the  Jordan,  they  took,  you  will  recollect, 
stones  out  of  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  brought  them  over,  and  es- 
tablished a  monument.  There  will  recur  to  your  memory  many  in- 
stances in  which  there  were  some  such  memorials  as  these. 
""  Now,  here  was  a  great  victory ;  and  Samuel  took  a  stone,  and  set  it 
(  up  as  a  nide  monument.  Art,  in  later  days,  has  perfected  the  monu- 
mental system  ;  and  we  rear  monuments  which  represent  the  skill  and 
/  taste  of  the  people,  to  commemorate  great  events.  In  earlier  days, 
and  in  simpler  ways,  perhaps,  and  with  as  much  patriotism,  though 
with  less  taste,  mommients  were  erected  of  heaps  of  stone,  or  of  single 
slabs  of  stone.  And  to  emphasize  this  great  victory,  Samuel  erected 
this  rude  stone.  Not,  however,  for  the  sake  of  inspking  the  people 
with  a  sense  of  theu'  own  corn-age;  and  not  simply  with  the. purpose  of 
inspiring  them  with  patriotic  ardor.  lie  set  up  the  stone,  and  said 
"Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  us."     For  all  the  preparation  for  this 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY.  265 

warfare  had  been  moral.  There  was  no  di-illing  of  the  clans — for  the 
tribes  were  but  clans ;  there  was  no  battle  array  ;  there  was  no  military 
hero.  Samuel,  eminently  a  priest  and  a  civilian,  had  led  them  into  this 
battle ;  and  the  people  were  afraid  when  they  knew  that  the  Philistines 
were  coming  upon  them.  And  when  they  had  repented ;  when  they 
had  settled  theii-  Avickednesses  among  themselves ;  when  they  had  tiu-ned 
theii*  hearts  toward  God,  and  promised  to  seiwe  Him  only  ;  and  when 
Samuel  had  2:)erformed  the  sacrificial  service,  and  blessed  them,  and  sent 
them  forth  to  the  battle,  j)robably  some  great  storm  occurred,  or  might 
have  been  ordained  of  God,  or  might  have  been  appropriated  for  that 
occasion  as  a  j)rovidence  of  God.  At  any  rate,  God  "  thundered  "  in 
the  heaven,  and  the  Philistines  were  appalled,  and  thought  that 
the  Gods  of  the  Hebrews  were  fighting  against  them ;  and  the  battle 
went  against  them  ;  and  all  the  people  rolled  on,  and  di-ove  their 
oppressors  and  adversaries  to  then-  uttermost  cities.  "Where  Bcthcar 
was,  modern  research  cannot  determine  ;  nor  is  it  particularly  impor- 
tant. On  returning  from  this  great  victory,  Samuel  set  up  this  me- 
morial-stone, that  all  Israel  might  look  upon  it,  and  remember  that 
hitherto  the  Lord  had  helped  them.  Not  theii*  own  prowess,  not 
then"  own  military  skill,  but  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  in  which  they 
trusted,  had  delivered  them. 

There  is,  then,  a  distinct  recognition,  here,  of  the  hand  of  God  in 
providence  ;  and  there  is  a  marking  of  the  event  of  God's  interference 
in  their  behalf  by  some  visible  outward  sign  which  would  serve  to  bring 
it  back  to  them.  For  no  man,  after  the  battle  and  the  victory,  return- 
ing that  way,  and  beholding  this  stone,  would  forget  it.  They  would 
cherish  it  in  their  memory,  and  tell  then-  children  of  it.  And  if  then* 
occasions  or  needs  ever  took  any  of  them  again  through  the  region  of 
their  old  captivity,  their  old  fear,  the  old  battle  and  the  old  victory, 
that  outside  memorial  would  stand  to  remind  them,  not  merely  of 
each  external  event,  but  also  of  the  interior  moral  truth  that  it  was 
of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  they  were  presei^ved,  and  that  it  was  of 
God's  interposing  providence  that  they  were  victorious. 

Now,  we  are  in  many  respects  like  the  Israelites.  We,  too,  have  a 
promised  land  into  which  we  are  brought  by  our  hopes  in  Christ.  •  Our 
.promised  land  is  just  like  Palestine.  Its  mountains  and  passes  are 
filled  with  unsubdued  inhabitants.  They  are  all  about  us.  On  the 
East  are  the  Moabites  and  the  Hivites,  and  on  the  West  and  South- 
west are  the  Philistines,  hanging  on  the  sku-ts  of  our  spiritual  king- 
dom, or  in  the  midst  of  it,  in  then*  mountain  dens  and  fastnesses. 
We,  too,  are  watched.  Often  incm-sions  are  suddenly  made  against 
US,  and  we  are  carried  into  captivity,  or  are  humbled  in  battle. 
Often,  too,  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  lifted  up  in  our  behalf;  and  the 


266  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY. 

battle  goes  agNinst  the  Philistines,  and  the  Hivites,  and  the  Jebusites, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  land,  and  we  beat  them  down,  and  we  drive 
them  back,  so  that  they  have  no  more  dominion  over  us  for  a  time. 
^"We  are  full  of  conflicts.  And  yet,  we  maintain  our  gi'ound,  and  hold 
'  ourselves  only  by  vigilance,  as  in  the  presence  of  a  continually  watch- 
ing enemy.  And  in  this  great  warfare,  which  goes  on  with  all  true 
Chiistians,  and  goes  on  just  in  proportion  as  they  are  truly  Chiistian  : 
just  in  proportion  as  their  standard  of  Chi-istian  life  is  high;  just  in 
proportion  as  they  are  determined  to  bring  every  thought  and  feeling 
into  subjection  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  just  in  proportion  to  th- 
comprehensiveness  and  richness  of  that  which  they  mean  by  being 
Chiistians  in  then  life  and  disposition — in  this  great  warfare  your  con 
flicts  are  many,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  those  conflicts  are  many. 

There  are,  in  the  histoiy  of  every  man,  certain  remarkable  events 
that  are  worthy  to  be  remembered.  At  any  rate,  there  are  divine 
inteii^ositions  in  our  behalf,  as  there  was  here  a  divine  interposi- 
tion, by  which  Israel  gained  a  victory.  And  as  Samuel,  inspned  of 
God,  set  up  an  external  memorial,  as  a  vritness  of  that  event,  that  he 
and  his  people  Israel  might  not  forget  to'be  grateful ;  so  in  our  conflicts 
it  is  well  for  us  to  mark  the  interpositions  of  God's  providence  in  our 
behalf.  It  is  well  for  us  from  point  to  point  to  set  up  some  memorial, 
according  to  our  disposition  and  cij-cumstances,  and  to  say,  from  step 
to  step,  "Hitherto,  the  Lord  hath  helped  me."  It  is  worth  our  while 
to  keep  in  review  all  the  goodness  of  God  to  us  along  the  line  of  our 
march,  and  to  have  imperishable  memorials  of  that  goodness. 

The  gi'acious  and  providential  interference  of  God  in  om'  behalf 
deserves  to  be  noted.  The  memory  of  all  his  mercies  ought  to  be  per- 
petuated. Eveiy  critical  period,  as  the  turning  of  the  year ;  every 
point  of  success  in  any  enterprise  of  life ;  every  point  where  we  gain  a 
higher  joy,  whether  it  be  secular,  or  social,  or  spiiitual ;  every  new 
relation  which  promises  gi-eat  blessedness  to  us ;  every  business  achieve- 
ment which  seems  to  lift  us  out  of  darkness  and  out  of  difficulties ; 
eveiy  gi'eat  mischief  that  impended  as  a  threatening  sky,  but  that  is 
rolled  away — eveiy  such  event  or  experience  ought  to  have  a  distinct 
recognition. 

We  live  so  fast,  and  we  live  in  such  thunder  and  din,  that  thous- 
ands of  things  are  happening  in  the  course  of  the  year  which  are  pre- 
eminently efficacious  in  working  out  our  disposition  and  our  nature, 
which  are  educating  us,  and  which  are  having  a  great  influence  in  de- 
termining our  whole  future  condition,  but  which  go  so  quick,  or  are 
heeded  so  little,  that  they  pass  by  without  any  special  recognition. 
And  yet,  no  man  ought  to  allow  anything  which  has  a  distinct  influ- 
ence on  his  personality  to  go  unthought  of,  unstudied,  unrecognised. 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY.  267 

There  are  critical  experiences  which  befall  every  household :  and 
they  ouglit  to  become  a  part  of  the  calendar  of  that  household.  The 
birth  of  a  child ;  the  death  of  a  child ;  the  marriage  hour  of  a  child ; 
the  point  at  which  a  child  is  received  into  the  visible  body  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  times  of  bankruptcy  ;  times  of  recovery  from  poverty  ; 
times  of  sickness  ;  times  of  returning  health — these  are  eminently  sig- 
nificant. It  is  not  enough  to  think  of  them  as  among  the  rubbish  of 
mere  secular  happenings.  They  go  back.  They  have  vital  bearings. 
They  make  us  worse.  They  make  us  better.  They  lift  us  up.  They 
crush  us  down.  They  are  at  work  on  our  immortality.  Something  in 
heaven  will  by-and-by  say  to  us,  "This  sprung  from  that ;"  and  the 
threads  of  being  will  then  be  traced  all  the  way  down  to  experiences 
here  upon  earth.  And  as  these  things  occur  it  is  wise  for  us  to  heed 
them,  to  study  them,  to  set  them  apart  from  the  ordinary  flow  of 
events,  and  to  say  in  respect  to  them,  "  The  Lord  hath  done  this ;"  or, 
*'The  hand  of  the  Lord  is  in  this." 

And  that  which  is  true  of  these  external  and  social  influences,  is 
more  eminently  true  of  internal  experiences. 

The  coming  on  of  a  great  trouble  or  grief  (and  every  heart  knows 
its  own  sorrow) ;  the  hours  of  anguish,  which  we  may  or  may  not  con- 
fide to  another ;  those  habitual  troubles  which  weigh  down  life  with  a 
pei-petual  gravitation ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  rolling  away  of 
grief;  the  glad  morning  after  the  night ;  the  dawn  of  great  afiections  in 
the  soul — which  are  the  best  blessings  that  God  ever  gives,  and  are  to 
us  what  the  coming  of  the  morning  sun  is  to  the  day ;  the  emerging 
into  the  light  of  a  new  faith  ;  victories  over  easily  besetting  sins  ;  the 
conquest  over  inbred  sins ;  clearer  views ;  stronger  impulses  of  con- 
science ;  a  new  sense  of  manhood  infused  into  om-  souls ;  a  more  heroic 
impulse  taking  the  place  of  a  craven  or  mere  physical  habitude  of  obe- 
dience— all  these  critical  inward  experiences  are  worthy  of  some  exter- 
nal recognition.  That  is,  we  should  specialize  them.  We  should 
think  of  them  in  then*  individuality,  and  in  their  sequences ;  and  it 
would  be  well  for  us  if  we  could  set  up  some  memorial,  and  be  able  to 
say  to  one  and  another,  "  Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  helped  me.  It  is 
the  Lord — not  my  skill,  not  my  wisdom,  not  my  prowess — that  hath 
helped  me  hitheito." 

Our  true  life  is  the  inward  life.  It  deseiwes,  therefore,  to  be  spe- 
cially watched  and  recorded.  No  other  thing  deserves  such  celebrations 
as  a  man's  inward  victory — his  inward  deliverance.  A  blessing  that 
comes  from  God  should  be  recognized  by  us,  though  it  comes  in  no 
visible  form.  If  God  were  to  send  to  us  a  great  fortune,  how  would 
our  friends  come  in  to  congratulate  us  !  If  it  were  known  that  some 
far  off,  distant,  and  perhaps  unknown  or  um'ecognized  one,  had  died 


268  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY. 

and  left  a  million  of  dollars  to  me,  should  I  not  receive  at  my  door  the 
visits  and  congratulations  of  sympathizing  friends  ?  And  yet,  there  is 
more  treasure  and  power  in  one  great  thought  that  clears  life  of  mys- 
tery, that  sheds  its  beams  along  down  the  path  that  my  feet  ai'e  to 
tread,  that  gives  me  a  broader  horizon,  a  higher  vision,  and  a  sweeter, 
truer  and  nearer  God,  than  in  all  the  possession  of  the  broad  earth.  If 
one  had  been  in  great  trouble,  and  bankruptcy  had  rolled  over  him, 
and  humiliation  had  followed,  and  if  he  had  been  delivered  from  the 
pride  and  arrogance  of  oi:)pressing  creditors,  and  reinstated,  and  placed 
in  the  midst  of  his  former  friends,  there  would  be  great  reason  for  gratu- 
lation,  and  great  reason  why  he  should  set  up  a  memorial.  But  if  one 
has  been  living  a  life  of  ordinary  care,  and  insight  has  sprung  up  in 
him,  and  gi'eat  affection  has  taken  possession  of  his  mind,  and  sweet 
influences  have  come  upon  him,  softening  his  temper,  quickening  all 
his  hope  of  life,  and  breathing  like  fragrant  summer  in  every  du-ection, 
there  is  more  reason  still  why  he  should  set  up  a  memorial.  The  pos- 
session of  a  new  fountain  of  love  in  one's  soul  is  far  more  than  his  re- 
instatement in  external  prosperity.  God's  greatest  gifts  are  those  which 
he  gives  to  the  inward  affections — to  the  soul's  powers.  And  although 
outward  blessings  are  not  to  be  despised  ;  though  they  have  ministra- 
tions of  mercy  in  them ;  though  they  have  in  them  much  instruction 
and  comfort  and  enjoyment ;  yet,  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are 
mightier  than  the  things  that  are  seen.  The  empu-e  of  a  man's  life 
lies  within  him,  and  not  outside  of  him.  And  it  is  victories  over  vul- 
garity ;  it  is  triumphs  over  pride ;  it  is  smitings  against  the  rock  and 
the  gushings  out  of  fountains  in  the  wilderness ;  it  is  the  dealings  of 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  inwardly  with  our  thoughts  and  feelings  and 
emotions,  that  most  deseiwe  to  be  signally  noted,  and  heedfully  per 
petuated,  by  some  memorial  set  up  which  testifies  that  "  hitherto  the 
Lord  hath  helped  us."  Such  experiences  of  mercy  should  be  followed 
by  memorials  to  signalize  them,  because  something  of  the  kind  is 
necessary  to  keep  alive  in  the  memory  these  special  favors  of  God 
to  us. 

No  one  who  has  a  constant  succession  of  good  fortune,  keeps  any 
ideal  in  his  mind  of  the  number  of  divine  mercies  of  which  he  is  the  re- 
cipient. If  God  were  to  recount  what  he  has  done  for  us,  it  would  seem 
as  though  our  life  were  a  golden  chain,  in  which  one  golden  link  clasped 
another,  eveiy  hour  being  a  link,  and  every  day  lengthening  the  chain. 
And  yet,  we  frequently  feel  as  though  our  life  was  a  desolate,  barren 
life,  because  we  have  not  noticed  what  the  benefits  of  God  to  us  really 
were ;  because  we  have  taken  no  such  heed  as  to  be  impressed  that  the 
Lord  was  guiding  and  defending  us,  and  giving  us  victory.  One  mercy 
covers  d(-wn  another,  like  waves  of  the  sea.     One  follows  another,  and 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERC 7.  269 

there  seems  to  be  but  the  one  that  is  rolling  in  at  just  the  present  mo- 
ment. We  do  not  stop  to  think  that  the  events  which  redeem  this 
day.  which  till  this  hour  with  peace,  and  which  open  the  future  to  us, 
aa-e  special  divine  mercies.  We  attribute  these  things  to  ourselves. 
And  so  men  become  then-  own  providence  and  then-  own  God.  They 
think  for  themselves  ;  they  will  for  themselves ;  they  execute  for  them- 
selves ;  they  care  for  themselves ;  and  they  are  accustomed  to  feel  that 
the  strength  of  their  right-hand,  and  the  wisdom  of  theu'  head,  hath 
multiplied  the  mercies  of  this  life  to  them.  Their  life  is  full  of  events 
of  mercy,  only  they  do  not  heed  them.  They  do  not  know  that  God  is 
performing  these  marvels  around  about  them.  The  unthought^of  things 
are  often  full  of  beauty,  and  full  of  strangeness. 

I  sometimes  think,  of  a  night,  that  it  is  a  sin  to  go  into  the  house 
and  leave  God's  glory  flashing  abroad  in  the  Northern  Lights,  or  in  the 
stellar  exhibitions  in  all  the  broad  expanse  above,  without  a  witness — 
certainly  without  my  witnessing  them.  I  feel  as  though  it  were  a  stu- 
pidity to  retu-e  to  sleep  with  all  this  amazing  display  going  on.  For, 
what  are  men's  inventions  and  ingenuities  compared  with  those  aston- 
ishing developments  which  every  summer's  day  shows  us  in  the  clouds, 
in  the  storms,  and  in  frescoes  of  light  and  beauty?  Every  single 
day  there  is,  in  the  silence  of  nature,  and  in  the  might  of  nature, 
enough  to  fill  the  human  soul  with  joy  and  gratitude.  But,  while  day 
tells  it  to  day,  and  night  repeats  it  to  night,  man  sees  but  little  of  it. 

And  as  it  is  in  nature,  so  even  more  is  it  in  providence.  Not  only 
are  there  a  thousand  things  going  on  around  about  us  which  we  do  not 
heed,  but  there  ai'e  a  thousand  things  going  on  within  us,  which,  for 
want  of  education,  we  do  not  mark  nor  recognize. 

It  is  well  for  us,  therefore,  not  only  to  specially  note  these  things  at 
the  time,  but  to  set  up  some  sort  of  memorial  to  fasten  them  in  the 
memory,  that  they  may  be  of  service  to  us  by-and-by.  This  may  be 
done  in  a  variety  of  ways.     A  few  only  I  will  suggest. 

There  may  be  kept  a  calendar  of  dates.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
one  can  preserve  in  this  way  with  very  little  trouble.  When  traveling 
ill  Europe,  I  was  so  full  of  excitement  and  enjoyment  that  I  had  not 
time  to  keep  a  jom-nal ;  so  I  just  put  down  under  each  date  one  single 
word — the  name  of  the  city;  or  the  name  of  the  picture;  or  the  name 
of  the  moimtain;  or  the  name  of  the  pass;  or  the  name  of  some  person 
whom  I  had  met ;  and  now  I  can  go  back  over  a  month's  travels,  and, 
though  there  are  but  these  single  words,  that  whole  history  starts  i;p 
when  I  look  at  them.  If  you  regularly  take  a  memorandum  book, 
at  night,  and  think  back  through  the  clay,  and  bring  up  before  you 
what  God  has  done  for  you,  what  he  has  shown  you,  what  significant 
thing  has  happened,  and  put  down  the  caption  of  it  under  the  proper 


270  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MEECY. 

date,  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  what  a  calendar  your  book  will  be- 
come at  the  end  of  every  year.  Never  Avas  there  a  histoiy  written 
which  was  so  full  of  wonder  as  any  single  life  before  me  during  a  whole 
year.  Never  were  there  written  things  so  improbable  as  many  things 
that  are  all  the  time  happening.  Never  were  there  events,  conjunc- 
tions, circumstances,  that  had  so  broad  and  lasting  an  influence  as  the 
things  which  we  pass  by  as  matters  of  com-se.  And  it  is  worth  one's 
while  to  keep  some  record  of  these  things.  There  are  some  men  who 
can  keep  a  journal ;  but  the  men  who  can  keep  a  journal  to  profit  are 
born  to  it.  Other  men  cannot.  Therefore  I  do  not  exhort  you  to  keep  a 
journal.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  not  one  man  in  a  hundred  that  can 
keep  a.  journal  without  knowing  that  somebody  may  see  it.  I  tried  it, 
and  I  know.  A  man  who  undertakes  to  keep  a  journal,  and  tells  how 
wicked  he  is — does  not  he  know  that  it  may  fall  into  the  hands  of 
somebody  ;  and  does  not  he  smooth  down  the  rough  corners,  and  leave 
out  some  things  ?  I  tried  to  keep  a  journal,  and  I  found  that  it  was 
false  all  through,  a  little  being  added  here,  and  a  Httle  being  taken  off 
there ;  there  being  a  little  too  much  light  here,  and  a  little  too  much 
darkness  there.  The  shading  was  false  from  beginning  to  end ;  and  I 
kicked  it  out  of  the  house.  I  would  not  therefore  advise  you  to  keep 
a  journal.  No  man  is  justified  in  turning  himself  inside  out  in  a  diaiy. 
It  usually  leads  to  a  morbid  introversion,  and  to  a  kind  of  conceit  as 

well. 

But  this  is  very  different  from  keeping  a  calendar  of  dates  and  events 
merely,  which  you  shall  understand,  and  no  one  else  shall — which  shall 
be  made  up  of  mnemotechnic  symbols,  by  which  you  shall  be  able  to 
recall  from  the  waste  of  the  past,  events,  judgments,  mercies,  which 
have  been  very  significant — a  book  full  of  Eben-ezers,  at  each  one  of 
which  you  may  stand  and  say,  "  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  me." 

Then  I  have  often  thought  it  would  be  no  unwise  thing  for  one  to 
make  his  house  a  kind  of  museum — to  his  own  eyes  at  any  rate,  and  to 
a  certain  extent  to  the  whole  family — of  events  and  histories.  In  some 
of  the  German  houses  there  is  a  charming  habit  of  this  sort.  Wealthy 
men  there  build  thek  houses  for  themselves  and  then-  childi-en  to  live 
in  ;  and  therefore  it  is  worth  then-  while  to  do  what  it  is  scarcely  worth 
our  while  to  do.  Instead  of  papering  then-  rooms,  or  frescoing  them 
in  the  ordinaiy  way,  they  employ  the  ablest  ailists  of  their  times  to  paint 
then-  walls  with  the  most  exquisite  landscapes,  which  are  to  stand  there 
for  ao-es.  And  in  these  landscapes  are  representations  of  their  own 
fkmily  here  and  there.  Here,  for  instance,  are  the  gi-and-parents ;  there 
are  the  children ;  and  here  are  the  friends  and  neighbors.  And  so,  one 
has  in  his  house  a  kind  of  memorial  of  his  social  relationships,  and 
of  everything  significant  in  the  family  history.      It  is  a  most  charming 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY.  271 

idea  if  it  be  executed  fitly.  But  I  would  not  recommend  to  you  any 
such  custom  as  this,  which  is  very  expensive,  and  unfitted  to  our  habits 
and  manners.  And  yet,  it  is  quite  possible  for  one  to  have  objects  on 
his  wall  which  shall  answer  very  much  the  same  j^urpose.  A  leaf  here, 
an  anchor  there,  or  a  little  flower,  plucked,  dried,  and  hung  in  its  prop- 
er place,  may  mark  some  significant  passage  in  one's  history. 

This  may  be  seen  in  castles.  The  man  of  the  castle  says,  "Do  you 
see  those  antlers  ?  Do  you  see  that  frontal  ?  I  will  give  you  a  histoiy 
of  that  hunting  expedition."  They  are  memorials  which  he  has  pre- 
served of  various  experiences  in  hunting. 

And  why  might  not  that  be  cai'ried  out  further  %  When  a  child  is 
born  in  the  fomily,  why  might  there  not  be  hung  up  some  mem- 
orial of  that  event  which  should  never  depart  fi-om  the  wall  ?  Why 
might  not  eveiy  one  that  lives  leave  behind  some  significant  thing 
that  should  ever  bring  him  back  to  the  memory  of  those  who 
knew  him  when  their  eyes  should  chance  to  rest  upon  it?  Why 
should  not  every  dawning  mercy  have  a  star  blazing  from  the 
wall,  and  saying  to  every  one  that  looks  upon  it,  "Hitherto  the  Lord 
hath  helped  me  1"  Why  should  our  houses  be  so  barren  of  our  own 
history  %  Why  should  we  leave  our  eyes  so  enthely  without  the  aid 
of  interjjreting  symbols  ?  I  know  not  why  a  person's  house  should  not 
become  a  kind  of  memorial  of  j)ersonal  histoiy. 

Oi*,  a  journal  might  be  made  of  the  Bible.  If  one  has  a  Bible  of, 
his  own — and  every  one  should  have ;  if  one  has  a  Bible  that  he  reads  to 
the  exclusion  of  every  other  one — and  every  person  should  have  a  Bible 
that  he  is  as  used  to  as  he  is  to  his  father's  garden  or  dooryard,  so  that  he 
can  readily  put  his  hand  on  any  chapter  or  verse  in  it ;  if  one  has  such  a 
Bible,  which  is  his  own  property,  he  may  register  any  significant  event 
by  marking  certain  texts  or  passages  which  are  eminently  suited  to  it. 
In  that  way  he  will  form  the  habit  of  selecting  passages  of  Scripture 
which  are  adapted  to  the  various  exigencies  of  this  life.  And  how 
beautiful  it  is  !  If  you  keep  a  kind  of  register,  so  that  the  text  refers  to 
and  is  associated  with  the  event,  your  Bible  becomes  a  memorial.  You 
are  setting  up  all  the  way  through  it  stones  of  remembrance,  as  it  were. 
You  are  providing  a  record  for  your  old  age.  And  by-and-by,  when  you 
take  down  yom*  Bible,  and  put  on  yom-  glasses,  and  look  back  upon 
your  past  life,  not  only  will  it  be  the  word  of  God,  but  you  will  find 
how  the  word  of  God  fed  you  in  the  wilderness,  strengthened  you  in 
sickness,  and  comforted  you  in  chcumstances  of  discouragement.  How 
many  things  a  man  can  record  on  the  fly-leaves  of  his  Bible  which  will 
afibrd  him  pleasure  and  profit  in  after  life !  And  how  precious  that 
Bible  will  become  to  him  when  he  has  woven  it  into  his  experience  as 
a  kind  of  epitomizing  of  his  life ! 


272  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY. 

My  old  mother — my  wife's  mother — who  has  gone  home  to  heaven, 
ana  WHO  was  over  ninety  years  of  age  when  she  died,  had,  when  I  was 
in  college,  one  of  those  little  books  called  "Daily  Food,"  in  which  there 
was  a  verse,  a  text,  for  every  day  of  the  year.  She  was  a  godly  woman ; 
and  it  was  her  habit,  in  this  little  "Daily  Food,"  or  calendar  for  every 
day  in  the  year,  to  mark  special  occurrences  and  experiences,  till  it  be- 
came, to  her,  a  sort  of  transparent  history  of  her  children.  There  was 
this  trouble  that  came  on  such  a  day ;  or  there  was  that  sorrow  which 
was  heard  of  on  such  a  day ;  and  along  with  the  record  of  it  was  a  text ; 
and  it  oftentimes  seemed  almost  like  a  revelation  that  such  a  text  should 
have  such  a  place.  And  she  pinned  her  history  with  texts  of  Scripture  in 
this  way.  Eveiy  important  event  connected  with  her  life  is  doubtless 
noted  there.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  day  of  my  wedding  is  put  down 
somewhere,  with  a  text  of  Scripture  pinned  to  it.  There  is  something 
beautiful  in  this  habit,  as  well  as  something  most  useful. 

Or,  one  might,  if  blessed  with  means,  take  the  occasions  of  God's 
helpfulness  to  him,  and  make  them  also  occasions  of  charity.  There 
are  what  are  called  "  memorial  windows "  in  churches.  There  are 
some  in  St.  Ann's  Church,  which  has  just  been  completed  in  this  city. 
Such  windows  are  put  in  often,  by  aifeution,  to  be  the  memorial  of  a 
wife,  or  sister,  or  parent,  or  child,  or  friend.  In  the  old  country  there 
are  a  great  many  of  them.  One  of  the  most  affecting  things  I  ever 
saw  in  my  Ufe  was  in  the  church  of  the  "  Succoring  "  Virgin — that  is, 
of  Mary  the  Succorer.  It  was,  I  believe,  in  one  of  the  French  cities. 
The  whole  church  was  filled  with  tablets.  Here  was  one  of  an  offi- 
cer, for  three  days  deliverance,  on  such,  and  such,  and  such  dates. 
It  was  a  little  marble  slab  let  into  the  wall,  inscribed  with  letters  of 
gold.  On  iiiquiring  and  comparing  dates,  I  found  it  was  dming  the 
battle  of  Inkerman,  at  a  time  when  the  French  army  were  in  great 
danger.  The  man  had  been  preserved ;  and  when  he  came  back,  he 
put  up  in  this  church  this  tablet,  recalling  the  mercy  of  God  in  sparing 
his  life.  Another  inscription  was,  "My  babe  was  sick  ;  I  called  to  the 
Vb-gin  ;  she  heard  me;  and  my  child  lives."  There  was  the  tablet  that 
celebrated  that  event.  And  I  could  not  read  these  inscriptions  with- 
out having  tears  fall  from  my  eyes  like  di'ops  from  a  spice  bush  when 
shaken  m  a  dewy  morning. 

Now,  everybody  ought  to  have  a  church  somewhere  for  himself— 
not  a  literal  church  ;  but  some  place  where  he  can  celebrate  God's  spe- 
cial goodness  to  him.  Suppose,  Avhen  God  spares  the  life  of  your 
child,  you  should  say  (if  you  are  blessed  with  the  means),  "  I  will 
make  this  significant  by  finding  an  orphan  child,  and  setting  apart 
that  which  shall  take  care  of  that  child.  I  will  make  my  benefaction 
to  that  child  a  perpetual  memorial  for  the  life  of  my  dear  child !"     Or, 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY.  273 

has  God  taken  away  your  child — that  sweetest  girl  ?  As  you  laj  that 
child  in  the  grave  you  will  need  no  memorial  of  her.  And  yet  the 
hand  of  God  was  in  this  event.  And  why  should  you  not  set  apart 
something  to  signify  your  sense  of  God's  presence  Avith  you  in  your 
affliction  ?     Why  should  you  not  organize  something  that  will  endure  ? 

Oh !  if  men  should  write  theii*  sense  of  God's  goodness  to  them  on 
the  tables  of  living  hearts,  how  in  one's  lifetime  the  whole  community 
would  be  filled  full  of  these  significant  instances  of  his  gratitude,  and 
testimonies  of  God's  goodness  to  him,  and  his  presence  either  in  trials 
or  in  joys ! 

Besides  these,  there  may  be,  for  preeminent  and  most  significant 
events  in  our  history,  days  set  apart.  We  have  ecclesiastical  days,  of 
com'se  ;  we  have  patriotic  or  national  days,  of  course ;  we  have  our 
bu'th  days,  of  course.  Now,  there  are  some  days  that  are  worth  to  us 
more  than  all  others  put  together — days  that  each  heart  knows  ;  days 
mysterious  ;  days  of  sorrow  ;  days  of  bitterness  ;  days  of  transcendent 
joy ;  days  of  conflict ;  wondi"ous  days  that  we  can  cari-j  before  God, 
and  only  God.  And  how  worth  one's  while  it  would  be  to  single  out 
these  days,  as  memorials,  as  it  were,  and  set  them  up  like  a  stoue,  and 
say,  "  Hitherto  hath  God  helped  me !" 

I  suggest  but  these  few  ways  in  which  we  may  commemorate  the 
important  events  of  our  history.  You  yom'selves  can  see  how  they 
might  be  diversified  and  increased. 

If  such  a  course  of  noting  God's  dealings  with  us,  if  such  a  course 
of  setting  up  memorials  by  way  of  recognising  the  hand  of  God  in 
the  shaping  of  our  lives,  be  established  and  followed  out,  bj^-and-by  we 
shall  come  to  a  habitual  sense  of  God's  presence  with  us.  Not  only 
will  there  be  the  record  of  these  events,  but  there  will  be  the  impres- 
sion educated  in  us  that  God  is  always  with  us.  There  will  be  the 
greater  and  the  lesser  mercies ;  but  there  will  be  a  sense  of  continuous 
mercy,  and  continuous  kindness.  God  will  be  with  us  in  gifts  every 
day,  as  well  as  in  those  special  gifts  which  we  mark  as  meinoi'able. 
And  lines  of  light  will  come  out  in  every  direction  from  our  experi- 
ence. 

Most  of  us  are  in  such  a  doubting  state  ;  we  so  fail  to  couple  God's 
watch  and  care  over  us;  we  so  fail  to  weave  them  into  a  sense  of  his 
universal  and  continuous  providence,  that  we  have  the  same  battles  to 
fight  over  and  over  again.  We  ought  at  least  to  come  to  that  state  in 
respect  to  God  and  his  providence  which  we  do  in  resjicct  to  om* 
friends.  You  have  friends  that  you  trust.  You  have  friends  that  you 
know,  if  you  were  sick,  would  not  betray  you.  You  have  friends  that 
you  know  would  not  desert  you  if  you  Avere  unfortunate  in  business. 
You  have  friends  that  you  know  would,  to  the  extent  of  theu*  powei*. 


274  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MEBCl. 

stand  by  you  in  the  dark  hour.  You  have  friends  that  you  know 
would  never  fail  to  give  you  good  counsel,  and  to  sympathize  with  you 
in  trouble.  I  pity  the  man  who  has  not  some  "  friend  that  sticketh 
closer  than  a  brother,"  and  that  would  go  through  thick  and  thin 
"  with  him.  But  God,  the  best  and  most  inexpressibly  precious 
Friend,  whoso  whole  life  is  one  prolonged,  continuous  benefaction  to 
us,  is  the  very  one  that  we  trust  the  least.  And  though  a  thousand 
dark  hours  have  come  to  us,  and  God  has  helped  us  in  eveiy  one 
of  them,  we  have  failed  to  carry  along  a  faithful  remembrance  of  them, 
and  to  say,  "  He  that  helped  me  hitherto,  will  help  me  in  all  time  to 
come  ;"  so  that  when  the  thi'eat  is  in  the  heaven,  we  are  just  as  much 
alarmed  as  though  it  had  never  been  there  a  thousand  times  before. 
When  a  great  soitow  is  upon  us,  we  act  as  though  we  had  never 
known  sorrow  before,  and  bad  never  before  been  delivered  from  sor- 
row. And  in  the  midst  of  our  various  experiences  of  life,  how  we  fail 
to  believe  that  God  loves  us,  that  he  is  fiithful  to  us,  and  that  he  will 
never  leave  us  nor  forsake  us  !  If  we  had  been  accustomed  to  com- 
memorate, by  date  and  memorials,  our  past  experiences,  by-and-by  we 
should  have  had  the  habit  of  looking  up  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  able  to 
go  on,  and,  when  trouble  came,  face  it  undaunted,  and  say,  "  The  Lord 
lives  ;  and  while  he  lives  I  shall  not  suffer." 

Hear  the  Psalmist  in  his  deep  grief: 

"  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul  ?  and  why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  T 
Hope  thou  in  God;  fori  shall  yet  praise  him."  "  O  my  God,  my  soul  is  east  down  witliin 
me  ;  therefore  will  I  remember  thee  from  the  land  of  Jordon,  and  of  the  Hermonites, 
from  the  hill  Mizar.  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy  water-spouts  ;  all  thy 
■waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone  over  me.  Yet  the  Lord  will  command  his  loving-kind- 
ness in  the  day  time,  and  in  the  night  his  song  shall  be  with  me,  and  my  prayers  untc 
the  God  of  my  life." 

Such  was  liis  state  of  mind  that,  first  came  the  grief,  and  then  the 
recognition  that  God  would  succor  him  in  his  grief 
^  Such  a  day  as  to-day — the  first  Sabbath  in  the  new  year — seems  to 
me  to  be  a  day  eminently  fit  for  the  beginning  of  good  habits  and  the 
noiu'ishing  of  good  tendencies.  Christian  brethren,  why  should  we  not 
begin  this  year  with  the  resolution,  in  the  first  place,  of  looking  back 
upon  the  last  year,  and  singling  out  what  remains  to  us  of  God's  good- 
ness ?  And  why  should  we  not  recognize  in  some  way  or  other  our 
sense  of  gratitude  to  God  ?  Why  should  we  not  set  up  some  stone,  and 
mark  thereon,  "  Eben-ezer,"  and  say,  "  Hitherto  God  hath  helped  me.*' 
There  were  many  stones  set  up  last  year — memorials  of  anguish  ;  testi- 
monials .  of  bereavements.  Oh !  that  there  were  that  Christian  faith 
which  should  convert  every  sudden  grief  into  a  testimony  of  triumph, 
and,  above  all,  a  witness  of  God's  fidelity !  Has  not  God  been  good  to 
you  during  the  last  year  ?  Has  he  not  been  good  to  you  in  your  fam- 
ily ?     Has  he  not  relieved  you  from  a  thousand  troubles  when  you 


MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY.  275 

have  called  out  to  him  ?  Has  he  not,  many  and  many  a  time,  dui-ing  ^ 
the  past  year,  taught  you  to  trust  in  him  for  his  goodness  ?  Has  he 
not  lifted  your  feet  from  many  an  obstacle  ?  Has  he  not  sweetened 
your  life  ?  Has  he  not  made  death  itself  less  terrible  to  you?  Has  he 
not  drawn  near  to  you  in  ways  most  gentle,  tender,  rich,  and  soul-fill- 
ing ?  Has  he  not  proved  himself  to  be  just  such  a  Friend  as  he  prom- 
ised to  be  ?  Nay  more,  has  he  not  done  exceeding  abundantly  more 
than  you  asked  or  thought  ?  Has  he  not  sent  mercies  that  you  had  no 
reason  to  exj^ect?  Has  he  not  averted  judgments  that  seemed  to 
break  on  your  head  ?  Has  he  not  been  unspeakably  good  to  you  dur- 
ing the  past  year  ?  And  is  not  to-day  a  day  for  memorials  ?  Is  it  not 
a  day  for  setting  up  some  remembrance  of  God?  Cannot  we  all,  to- 
day, say,  "  Hitherto  hath  God  helped  me  ?"  Let  us  begin  this  year 
with  the  purpose  of  heart  to  live  more  childlike,  more  trustful,  more 
believing,  more  spiiitual  lives,  than  we  have  lived  in  times  gone  by. 
And  let  us  see  to  it,  as  month  after  month  rolls  away,  that  we  are  be* 
coming  more  obseiwant,  more  conscious  of  God's  very  great  bounties  to 
us,  and  more  gi-ateful  for  them. 

My  dear  friends,  there  is  nothing  that  comforts  and  encourages  me 
so  much,  as  to  have  you  tell  me  that  my  j)reaching  has  made  you  better. 
I  am  not  unconscious  of  pleasui-e  in  knowing  that  you  think  that,  of 
my  sermons,  this  or  that  is  an  able  one,  or  an  intellectual  one,  or  has 
elements  of  taste  in  it.  Every  faculty  in  me  is  alive  and  sensitive. 
But  God  is  my  witness,  that  in  none  of  these  things  do  I  have  the 
pleasure  that  I  do  in  the  testimony,  "  Your  preaching  has  helj)ed  me 
bear  my  burdens.  Your  preaching  has  sustained  me  in  my  struggles 
inwardly.  The  tnith  that  God  has  delivered  to  me  by  you  has  been 
blessed  in  making  me  better.  I  am  better  in  my  heart,  and  better  in 
my  house,  and  I  am  trying  all  the  time  to  be  better  in  my  business." 
That  is  comfort. 

Now,  may  God  grant  that  in  the  year  which  is  to  come,  I  may  be 
able  to  divide  the  word  so  that  every  one  of  you  may  have  a  portion 
in  due  season.  May  I  be  able  to  present  to  you  God's  everlasting  truth 
so  that  it  shall  be  a  support  to  you  in  life,  through  life,  and  unto  eter- 
nal life.  Let  me  have  your  prayers  that  I  may  be  able,  thi'ough  all 
this  year,  more  searchingly  to  preach  the  truth,  to  bring  it  into  relation 
to  every  inward  faculty,  and  more  and  more  richly  endow  you  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  truth.  Let  me  have  your  sympathy  and  yom-  prayers, 
that  in  the  year  which  is  to  come  I  may  so  preach  the  truth  that  you 
shall  be  nobler,  more  generous,  more  patient,  more  self-denying,  and 
more  thoughtful  of  other  men's  happiness.  Oh!  that  God  would  make 
your  houses  more  blessed  houses  than  they  have  ever  been  before,  ia 
this  year  which  is  to  come ! 


276  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MERCY. 

Axe  you  in  companionship  ?  Let  youi-  companion  bear  testimony 
concerning  you,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  "  I  have  never  had  so  much 
comfort  of  his  society  as  dui'ing  this  year."  Ai-e  you  living  in  family 
relations?  Let  every  one  in  your  family  say  of  you,  "His  presence, 
this  year,  has  been  more  full  of  light  and  sweetness  than  ever  before." 
Ai'e  you  in  business  relations  ?  Let  men  say  of  you,  "  I  never  had 
such  a  savor  of  Christ  in  a  man  as  I  have  had  this  year  in  hun."  Bear 
the  precious  name  of  Jesus  with  you  into  every  part  of  your  life  ;  and 
in  all  the  experiences  which  rise  up  to  }  ou  in  that  blessed  name,  do  not 
forget  to  be  grateful  at  the  time.  And  do  not  forget  to  have  some 
souvenir  and  memorial  by  which  you  shall  connect  these  various  kind- 
nesses of  God,  and  be  able,  every  year,  to  set  up  another  testimony, 
and  say,  "  Hitherto  hath  God  helped  me." 

And  by  and  by,  when  sickness  comes,  may  God  grant  that  you  may 
go  through  all  the  region  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  saying, 
"Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  me."  When  you  come  to  the 
brink  of  the  river,  do  not  shrink.  And  as  you  go  out  of  our  sight, 
and  reach  the  far  shore,  send  back  some  airy  voices  to  say  still,  "Hitherto 
the  Lord  hath  helped  me."  And  Avhen  you  rise  and  stand  in  Zion  and 
before  God,  God  grant  that  you  may  be  able  to  say,  in  the  presence  of 
all  the  holy  angels,  "  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  me." 


MEMORIALS  OF. DIVINE  MERC T.  277 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

"We  acknowledge  thee,  Almighty  God,  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Spirit— one  God— our 
God — God  over  all,  blessed  forever.  In  thy  immeasurable  blessing  -we  are  compre- 
hended, morning  and  night;  and  at  all  intervening  hours,  thy  mercies  are  new,  continu- 
ous, and  inexpressibly  rich.  Thou  it  is  that  dost  bring  joy  when  joy  is  best,  and  dost 
bring  soitow  when  sorrow  is  nourishing  and  needed.  Thou  dost  come  to  us  with 
thy  face  unveiled  and  full  of  light;  and  thou  dost  hide  thyself  behind  the  clouds;  and 
yet,  when  clouds  are  around  about  thee,  justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  thy 
throne.  Our  fathers  have  trusted  thee,  and  thou  didst  not  forsake  them.  We  have 
trusted  thee,  and  thou  hast  never  forsaken  us.  Nor  wilt  thou  cast  off  any  that  put  their 
trust  in  thee.  Though  helpless,  though  erring,  though  sinning  from  day  to  day,  thou 
wilt  not  cast  them  off.  But  thou  wilt  inspire  them  to  greater  diligence.  I'hou  wilt  awake 
Borrow  and  rcpentence  in  their  souls.  Thou  wilt  bring  them  back  with  confessions- 
Even  if  it  be  with  stripes  and  chastisements,  thou  wilt  bring  them  to  a  renunciation  of 
their  sins,  and  give  them  victory  over  them.  Ihou  wilt  work  mightily  in  all  those  that 
have  opened  their  hearts  to  thee,  that  thou  mayest  impart  unto  them  of  the  Godhead, 
building  up  in  them  that  which  is  given  to  them  of  thine  own  nature,  bringing  them 
more  and  more  out  from  the  dominion  of  the  body  and  its  powers,  out  from  the  domin- 
ion of  the  world  that  is  visible,  and  bringing  them  more  and  more  into  the  sacred  pres- 
ence ot  God  and  the  invisible  world,  where  all  thy  ofiBces  of  spiritual  power  are  per- 
formed. Thou  wilt  make  them  sons  of  God  inwardly,  and  by  a  blessed  affection  of  thy 
spirit  thou  wilt  make  them  to  know  that  they  are  thy  children.  Thou  wilt  breathe  into 
them  such  affection  that  they  shall  be  able  to  say,  Our  Father,  and  know  that  in  the 
breathing  of  their  souls  they  have  the  testimony  of  God  that  they  are  sons  of  God. 

And  now,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  we  may  feelmore  that  father- 
hood, that  everlasting  relation  of  life,  which  thou  hast  shown  b}'  thy  grace.  Grant 
that  we  may  feel  that  thou  art  a  merciful  Creator  and  Redeemer,  dealing  with  us  not 
only  with  mercy,  but  with  that  gladness  of  mercy  which  is  everlasting — which  hath  been 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  and  shall  be  to  the  end  thereof.  Grant  that  we  may 
be  brought  into  sweet  relationship  to  thee  as  the  all-inspiring  and  instructing  Spirit  of 
God. 

May  we  have  commerce  with  thee,Father,  Son  and  Spirit.  Grant  to  every  one  of 
us  a  special  and  personal  relation  to  thee,  and  the  knowledge  of  it,  and  all  the  joy  of  it. 
Grant  that  from  day  to  day  our  life  may  be  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  And  may  there  be 
between  us  and  thee  that  secret,  that  unspoken,  that  dearest  life  of  love  which  all  love 
knows,  and  chiefly  that  which  exists  between  our  souls  and  thine.  Give  to  us  those 
moments  of  silence  which  no  word  can  describe.  Give  to  us  those  blessed  moments  of 
insight  when  all  the  glory  of  the  invisible  truth  shall  appear  to  us.  Give  us  those  hours 
on  the  mountain-top  when  thou  art  transfigured ;  and  yet,  make  us  willing  to  come  down 
again  and  wrestle  with  sin  and  all  the  distress  and  labor  of  life. 

Give  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  more  and  more  a  blessed  sense  of  the  certainty  of  our 
salvation,  not  by  reason  of  our  effort,  nor  by  reason  of  our  strength,  but  from  thy  faith- 
fulness, and  from  the  boundlessness  of  thy  love. 

And  so,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  unto  us  these  inward  mercies, 
sanctifying  to  us  all  outward  providences;  all  events  which  transpire,  and  which  relate 
to  us,  in  ordinary  providences.  Grant  that  they  may  every  one  bring  forth  some  fruit  in 
the  soul,  that  we  may  grow  rich  inwardly;  more  truthful ;  more  courageous  in  tnings 
that  are  right;  more  deep  in  our  affection;  more  spiritual;  more  disinterested;  and  that 
we  may  have  more  faith,  more  hope,  more  love,  and  a  calmer  foresight  into  the  coming 
glory  of  thy  spiritual  kingdom.  So  work  in  us  mightily,  both  by  thy  providence  and  X)j 
thy  grace. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all,  this  morn- 
ing, that  are  in  thy  presence,  and  upon  all  tbat  wish  they  were  here,  but  are  hindered  by 
thy  providence.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  to  the  sick  thy  sustaining  cres- 
ence,  and  thy  comforting  care.  If  any  are  appointed  unto  death,  show  them  that  th«  vay 


278  MEMORIALS  OF  DIVINE  MEBCT. 

of  death  is  the  way  of  God,  and  be  thou  -with  them  to  sustain  them  in  all  the  way.  If 
there  are  any  that  must  needs  give  up  tlieir  beloved  into  thy  hands  again,  prepare  them 
for  the  sacrifice;  and  grant  that  they  may  have  faith,  so  that  it  may  not  seem  to  them  that 
death  is  a  devouring  monster.  May  it  seem  to  them  the  gate  of  heaven  which  thou,  by 
the  hand  of  love,  dost  open,  and  where  thou  dost  quench  earthly  sorrow,  and  where  ttiou 
hidcst  their  beloved.  And  we  beseech  of  thee,  if  there  are  any  that  are  afflicted  and 
mourning,  that  thou  wilt  give  them  more  and  more  the  treasure  of  the  world  to  come, 
as  less  and  less  they  have  an  earthly  treasure.  And  if  there  are  any  that  are  walking 
solitary,  or  in  loneliness  of  heart,  while  in  the  midst  of  multitudes,  be  thou  with  them — 
thou  that  wert  alone,  and  yet  not  alone,  because  thy  Father  was  with  thee.  Be  thou 
the  companion  of  every  one  that  needs  thee,  and  solace  every  heart  that  needs  the 
strength  and  all  the  blessed  influences  of  thy  love- 

"Wo  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  give  thanks  to  thee  in  the 
memory  of  the  past — who  look  back  upon  the  year  that  is  gone,  and  oflFer  here  their  glad 
thanksgiving  unto  the  Lord.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  all  those  that  look 
forward  upon  this  year  with  an  earnest  desire  to  make  it  the  best  year  of  their  lives. 
May  each  succeeding  year  with  us  all  be  growing  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect 
day. 

"Wo  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  are  members  of  this  church,  and 
all  those  that  are  to-day  to  be  united  to  us.  We  pray  that  it  may  not  be  alone  an  out- 
ward union.  May  it  be  a  union  also  in  things  spiritual,  true,  deep  and  everlasting.  And 
bless  all  those  that  to-day  for  the  first  time  shall  be  joined  to  the  visible  and  outward 
church  of  God.  May  they  feel  that  they  belong  to  the  greater  invisible  church;  to  that 
great  multitude  that  no  man  can  number,  that  are  sanctified  in  heaven;  to  that  great 
company  that  cannot  be  enumerated  on  earth — men  of  faith  and  zeal  of  every  name, 
speaking  all  languages,  feeling  one  love,  with  all  service,  and  with  but  one  God.  Grant 
that  they  may  rejoice  that  thus  their  relationship  is  enlarged.  And  may  they  assume 
thy  name  and  thy  service  with  gladness,  and  rejoice  in  them,  not  counting  them  a  bond- 
age, but  a  liberty  from  bondage;  not  counting  them  a  yoke,  but  a  liberty  from  all  yokes. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God,  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest 
upon  those  that  are  gathered  with  us  who  have  not  named  thy  name;  who  do  not  know 
thy  spirit;  who  are  walking  yet  in  the  midst  of  thy  mercies  with  pride,  with  selfishness, 
with  worldly-mindedness  given  up  to  the  flesh  and  to  its  appetites.  Oh !  turn  them 
from  these  baser  things.  Turn  them  from  this  lower  life.  Grant  that  they  may  behold 
how  noble  is  the  way  of  the  Lord.  May  their  feet  be  drawn  into  thy  paths.  May  their 
hearts  be  sanctified  by  thy  spirit.  And  may  they  this  year,  may  they  this  day,  begin  that 
new  life  which  shall  never  waver;  which  shall  never  go  back;  which  shall  grow  stronger 
and  purer  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day. 

Bless,  we  beseech  of  thee,  all  the  churches  of  this  city;  and  may  all  those  that 
preach  thy  word,  to-day,  be  prepared  to  preach  it  in  sincerity  and  in  truth,  and  with 
power.  Grant  that  they  who  go  forth  bearing  precious  seed  weeping,  may  return  speedi- 
ly bringing  sheaves  in  their  bosom.  Bless  all  the  churches  in  our  land.  Unite  thy  peo- 
ple more  and  more  in  common  labor,  and  common  sympathy.  And  grant  that  the  hand 
of  charity  may  bring  all  together,  however  different  they  may  be  in  their  other  relations. 
And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  the  efforts  that  are  being 
made  for  the  promotion  of  intelligence— upon  all  schools,  and  colleges,  and  seminaries 
of  learniag  of  every  kind. 

Bless  those  who  are  seeking  to  rear  the  young;  those  who  are  striving  to  enlighten 
the  poor  and  the  ignorant.  And  grant  that  everywhere  this  great  nation  may  become 
intelligent,  just,  true,  God-fearing,  and  man-loving.  Let  thy  kingdom  come  everywhere, 
and  the  whole  earth  see  thy  salvation.    Which  we  ask  for  Christ's  sake.  Ameii. 


xvin. 
The  Victorious  Power  of  Faith. 


INVOCATION. 

Our  Father,  wilt  thou  accept  the  service  of  song  which  we  oifer  thee. 
Kindle  our  devotions  that  we  may  commune  with  thy  likeness  in  prayer. 
Lift  thy  thought  upon  our  thought,  that  we  may  have  some  intelligence  of 
the  path  of  duty,  and  of  the  privilege  which  we  have  as  sons  of  God.  Fill 
us  with  all  the  joy  and  blessedness  which  is  in  thy  Fatherhood  and  our 
Sonship.  And  may  all  that  is  within  us  this  morning  rise  to  meet  thee, 
and  rejoice  in  thee,  so  that  this  day  shall  be  a  day  as  bright  within  us  as 
thou  hast  made  it  without — yet  not  winter — a  day  of  summer  in  the 
soul,  and  of  rejoicing,  whether  in  the  sanctuary  or  in  our  homes.  We  ask  it 
for  Christ  Jesus'  sake.    Amen. 


A 


THE  YICTOPtlOUS  POAVEE  OF  PAITIl. 


'And  the  apostles  said  unto  the  Lord,  increase  our  faith." — Luke  XVII.  5. 


If  j-oTi  read  the  context,  tlie  whole  passage  seems,  together  with  the 
answer  of  the  Master,  to  be  obscure.  He  had  been  saying,  "  It  were 
better  "  for  a  man  "  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and 
he  cast  nito  the  sea,  than  that  he  should  offend  one  of  these  little  ones. 
Take  heed  to  yourselves  :  if  thy  brother  trespass  against  thee  seven 
times  in  a  day,  and  seven  times  in  a  day  turn  again  to  thee,  saying,  I 
repent,  thou  shalt  forgive  him."  It  was  after  this  discourse  that  "  the 
apostles  said  unto  the  Lord,  Increase  our  faith."  He  replied,"If  ye 
had  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  ye  might  say  unto  this  sycamine- 
tree,  Be  thou  plucked  up  by  the  root,  and  be  thou  planted  in  the  sea ; 
and  it  should  obey  you." 

It  does  not  seem  as  if  he  encouraged  them.  It  does  not  seem  as  if 
he  granted  their  request,  or  told  them  how  they  could  improve.  He 
seems,  rather,  to  have  rebuked  them,  by  calling  to  mind  how  little  fiith 
they  had,  which  they  themselves  knew,  as  was  shown  by  their  making 
application  to  him  for  more.  Why  they  should  have  asked  for  faith  in 
connection  with  the  peculiar  subject  of  forgiveness,  or  in  connection 
with  the  subject  of  carrjdng  one's  self  so  as  not  to  voluntarily  injure 
one  of  God's  little  ones,  by  Avay  of  anger,  or  bywayof  implacableness, 
seems  at  first  obscure  ;  but  it  will  become  plain  if  you  will  take  the 
interior  line  or  clue  of  the  connection,  and  not  the  exterior. 

Our  Saviour  was  wont  so  to  time,  and  to  word,  and  to  illustrate  his 
instructions,  that  they  struck  the  inward  moral  sense  of  his  hearers. 
He  was  preaching  to  his  disciples  the  duty  of  overcoming  passions  and 
malignant  dispositions.  He  was  preaching  to  them  the  result  of  the 
doctrine  of  forgiveness  and  gentleness. 

There  was  a  certain  moral  sense  in  the  disciples,  as  there  is  in  all 
men,  before  which  this  injunction  of  the  Saviour  came  with  approba- 
tion. They  felt  that  he  taught  them  the  right  thing.  And  yet,  the 
moment  they  undertook  to  think  about  it,  as  a  princii^al  thing  in  them- 
selves, they  began  to  say,  "  How  can  we  forgive  ?"  They  thought  of 
this  one,  and  that  one,  and  the  other  one  ;  they  recalled  all  their  little 

Sunday  MORNDCG,  Jan.  9,  1870.  Lesson  :  Luke  X.  23 — 42.  IIymns  (Plymouth  Collection) 
Ifos.  20J,  115,  564. 


280  TEE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITE. 

animosities,  and  prejudices,  and  dislikes  ;  and,  though  they  were  on  tho 
point  of  saying  to  themselves,  "  Well,  I  will  obey,"  the  thing  itself 
seemed  so  impossible  that  their  courage  sank  down,  and  they  said  in- 
wardly, "  We  cannot  do  it."  And  they  turned  instinctively  to  the 
Master,  and  said,  "  Increase  our  power  of  doing  this  " ;  that  is,  '■  In- 
crease our  faith  " — by  which  is  here  to  be  understood  that  whole  spirit- 
ual and  eminent  realm  of  power  out  of  which  comes  the  potency  by 
which  we  change  our  nature,  as  we  shall  by-and-by  see. 

Equally  sti'ange  seems  the  answer  :  "  If  ye  had  faith  as  a  gi'ain  of 
mustard-seed,  ye  might  say  unto  this  sycamine-tree,  Be  thou  plucked 
up  by  the  root,  and  be  thou  planted  in  the  sea ;  and  it  should  obey 
you."  In  answering  this  request ;  in  dealing  with  the  state  of  mind 
out  of  which  this  special  request  grew — namely,  moral  despondency ; 
the  want  of  courage  to  undertake  what  was  requii-ed — Christ  said,  "  I 
command  you  to  forgive  utterly  and  continuously ;  and  do  you  say,  '  I 
never  can  do  it ;  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  it  V  And  do  you  ask 
me  to  increase  your  faith  ?  I  tell  you,  there  is  not  only  power  in  you 
to  do  it,  but  there  is  in  jow  a  jDOwer  so  great  that  you  can  make  a  total 
change."  Or,  in  other  words,  "  If  ye  had  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard- 
seed — if  you  had  the  least  particle  of  faith — you  could  do  a  thing  that 
seems  as  impossible  as  to  command  that  sycamine-tree  to  be  rooted  up 
and  cast  into  the  sea." 

This  was  figurative  language ;  and  it  was  very  powerful,  being  built 
upon  the  oriental  imagination.  Men  at  that  time  were  more  accus- 
tomed to  such  things  than  we  are. 

We  have  an  analagous  instance  recorded  in  the  ninth  chapter  of 
Mark.  Our  Saviour  had  just  come  down  from  the  mount  of  transfig- 
uration to  the  noisy,  bustling  world,  that  must  have  seemed  to  him 
serene  and  bright  up  there  a  few  moments  before  ;  as  a  man  comes  out 
of  his  clDset  where  he  has  had  communion  with  God  and  heaven,  and 
has  experienced  the  veiy  sweetness  and  joy  of  Christian  hope,  and  steps 
forth  into  the  world  again,  and  comes  in  contact  with  its  nide  scenes 
and  brute  force.  Our  Saviour,  having  just  come  down  from  the  moun- 
tain, found  the  great  throng  raging  beneath,  under  the  dominion  of  the 

passions. 

«'  One  of  tho  multitude  answered  and  said,  Master,  I  have  brought  unto  thee  my 
son,  which  hath  a  dumb  spirit;  and  wheresoever  he  taketh  him,  he  teareth  him;  and  he 
foameth  and  gnasheth  with  his  teeth,  and  pineth  away;  and  I  spoke  to  thy  disciples 
that  they  should  cast  him  out,  and  they  could  not.  He  answoreth  him,  and  saitb,  O 
faithless  generation !  how  long  shall  I  be  with  you?  How  long  shall  I  suffer  you? 
Bring  him  unto  me.  And  they  brought  him  unto  him;  and  when  he  saw  him,  straight- 
way the  spirit  tare  him;  and  he  fell  on  the  ground,  and  wallowed,  foaming.  And  Jesna 
asked  his  father,  How  long  is  it  ago  since  this  came  unto  him?  And  he  said,  Of  a  child. 
And  of  limes  it  hath  cast  him  into  tho  fire  and  into  thu  vvaters,  to  destroy  him;  but  if 
thou  canst  do  anything,  have  compassion  on  us,  and  help  us.  Jesus  said  unto  him,  If 
thou  canst  believe,  all  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth.    And  straightway  tho 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWEB  OF  FAITH.  281 

father  of  tho  child  cried  out,  and  said  with  tears,  Lord,  I  believe;    help  thou  inino  un- 
belief" 

It  is  just  the  same  thing,  precisely.  Here  is  what  Christ  was  asked 
to  do — a  gi'eat  mercy;  and  he  says,  "This  is  possible  if  you  only  have 
faith  enough."  And  the  father  said,  "  I  have  a  little ;  but,  Oh  !  give 
me  enough  more  to  make  up  what  I  lack."  It  is  the  heart's  outcry.  This 
case  is  more  touching,  but  it  is  strictly  analagous  or  parallel  to  that  of 
the  text,  where  the  disciples  were  commanded  to  overcome  these  selfish 
and  defective  instincts.  They  saw  that  it  was  beautiful  and  right,  and 
wanted  to  do  it,  but  fell  off  before  it,  and  said,  "  How  can  we  %"  and 
besought  the  Lord  to  increase  their  faith.  And  he  said  to  them,  "  It 
is  jiossible.  It  does  not  requu-e  so  much  faith  as  you  think.  Why,  if 
you  only  had  it  to  the  amount  of  a  gi'ain  of  mustard-seed,  there  is  such 
power  in  it  that  you  could  do  not  only  that,  but  more  difficult  things." 
That  is  the  spu-it  of  the  reply. 

Men  are  just  like  the  disciples.  They  hear  religion  preached ; 
they  believe  the  things  that  are  said ;  and  at  times  the  truth  glances 
through  the  exterior  coating  and  strikes  then*  moral  sense.  The 
ideal  of  the  tnith  presented  to  them  seems  beautiful  and  sweet.  In 
a  white  light  it  is  to  them.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  men  there 
are  who  hear  the  gospel  preached  eveiy  Sunday,  and  think  there  is 
nothing  more  beautiful  than  meekness,  nothing  more  beautiful  than 
humility,  as  they  are  presented  to  them.  These  are  excellent  qualities 
in  their  estimation.  They  believe  in  love.  They  believe  in  everything 
that  is  requu'ed  in  a  true  Christian  character.  It  meets  their  a2^proval. 
Their  reason  approves  it.  Their  judgment  approves  it.  Then*  taste 
approves  it.  Then*  moral  sentiments  approve  it.  And  yet,  when  they 
ask  themselres,  "  How  shall  I  practice  it  V  they  fall  off  instantly,  and 
say,  "  It  is  not  possible  for  me.     I  never  can  do  it  in  the  world." 

Take  gentleness.  Here  is  a  gi'eat  rude-footed,  coarse-handed  man, 
gruff  and  impetuous,  and  careless  of  eveiybody,  who  sits  and  hears  a 
discourse  on  the  duty  of  being  gentle ;  and  as  the  various  figures  and 
illustrations  are  presented,  he  says,  "  Oh,  how  beautiful  it  is  to  be 
gentle  !"  But  the  moment  he  gets  out  of  the  church,  he  thinks,  "  The 
idea  of  my  being  gentle  !  I  gentle?  X gentle  ?  Somebody  else  must 
do  that  part  of  religion.  I  never  can.  It  is  not  my  nature  to  be 
gentle." 

Men  have  an  ideal  of  what  is  right ;  and  they  believe  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  its  realization  somewhere  ;  but  they  do  not  think  they  ai-e 
called  to  that  thing.     They  do  not  believe  it  is  possible  for  them. 

There  are  avaricious  men,  I  suppose,  to  whom,  on  hearing  a  dis- 
course on  benevolence  in  a  church,  it  really  shines,  and  who  say,  "  Oh, 
this  benevolence,  though  it  is  well  nigh  impossible — how  beautiful  it 
is  !"     But  when  it  begins  to  come  home  to  them,  and  the  question  is, 


282  THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

*'  "Will  you,  from  this  time  forth,  order  your  life  according  to  the  law 
of  benevolence  f  they  fall  off  from  that,  and  say,  "I  cannot;  it  is 
impossible."  And  if  Christ  were  present,  and  such  men  were  under 
the  influence  of  his  teaching,  they  would  tmii  to  Him  and  say,  "  Lord, 
if  this  is  true,  it  is  true,  and  I  must  conform  to  it ;  but  y  ou  must  increase 
my  taith.  I  must  have  some  higher  power.  I  cannot  do  it  without." 
And  Christ  would  encourage  them,  and  say  (not  rebukingly,  as  it  seems 
in  the  letter,  but  very  comfoi'tingly),  "Do  not  think  it  is  so  hard.  It 
is  difficult,  but  not  so  difficult  as  you  suppose.  Do  not  think  it  to  be 
so  impossible  that  I  must  work  a  miracle  for  you  before  you  can  accom- 
plish it."  If  you  have  faith,  if  you  rouse  up  those  spiritual  elements 
that  are  in  you,  if  you  bring  them  under  the  illumination  of  God's  own 
soul,  and  they  are  inspired  by  the  divine  influence,  there  is  that  power 
in  you  by  which  you  can  subdue  all  yom-  lower  nature,  and  can  gain 
victories  over  every  single  appetite  and  passion,  and  every  single  evil 
inclination  and  bad  habit.  Let  the  better  nature  in  man  once  come 
into  communion  with  God,  and  it  is  mightier  than  the  worse  nature  in 
man,  and  can  subdue  it. 

You  will  fail  of  the  secret  and  real  sjDirit  of  this  passage,  if  you  do 
not  consider  its  meaning  as  not  only  an  interpretation,  but  as  an  inter- 
pretation which  is  designed  to  give  courage  and  hoj)e  and  cheer  to 
those  who  desire  to  break  away  from  bad  tendencies  and  traits,  and  to 
rise,  by  a  true  growth,  into  the  higher  forms  of  Christian  exj^erience. 

Let  us  consider,  then,  the  practical  aspect  of  this  matter.  When  a 
sti'ong  nature  is  snatched  from  worldliness,  and  begins  to  live  a  Chris- 
tian life,  what  are  the  elements  of  his  experience,  reduced  to  some  sort 
of  philosophical  expression  ?  '  ' 

Fii-st,  the  soul  is  brought  into  the  conscious  presence,  and  under 
the  recognized  power,  of  the  divine  natui'e.  This  is  with  more  or  less 
distinctness  in  different  individuals. 

Consider  how  men  are  brought  to  a  religious  life.  One  man  has 
been  a  very  worldly  and  careless  man,  until,  in  the  universal  whhl  of 
affairs,  a  slap  of  bankruptcy,  like  the  stroke  of  waves  against  the  side 
of  a  ship,  smashes  into  his  concerns,  and  he  founders.  He  saves  himself, 
but  aU  his  property  goes  to  the  bottom.  And  there  he  is,  humbled, 
crushed,  mortified.  And  it  is  a  very  solemn  thing  to  liim.  But  he 
never  had  any  preaching  before  that  gave  him  such  a  sen?e  of  the 
unsatisfactoriness  of  this  life.  He  never  before  got  a  realizing  sense 
of  what  a  poor  place  the  world  was.  He  thoxxght,  "  Let  ns  build  " — 
three  tabernacles?  Yes,  "three  hundred  tabernacles.  This  is  the  place 
for  me."  I  have  heard  men  say,  "  This  world  is  good  enough  for  me  ; 
I  do  not  want  any  better  Avorld  " — till  they  came  into  great  struggles 
and  straits.    Then  they  began  to  think  that  the  world  was  not  enough 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  283 

And  if  such  men  have  had  tlie  advantage  of  Ciu-istian  instruction,  you 
will  frequently  see  them,  without  ostentation,  slide  into  the  church. 
They  have  not  had  a  very  strong  experience  ;  but  they  say,  *'  I  have 
been  living  wrong,  I  have  been  living  for  wrong  objects,  and  I  am 
going  to  live  a  religious  life."  They  do  not  know  exactly  what  that 
means  ;  but  they  disappear  from  the  world,  as  it  were,  and  reappear  in 
the  church,  and  begin  to  live  a  better  life — though  they  have  not  found 
out  all  the  meaning  of  it. 

Another  man  was  living  very  prosperously  and  happily.  The  foun- 
tain of  his  joy  was  m  his  comj^anion ;  and  God  took  her ;  and  he  knew 
no  other  way  of  joy.  lie  settled  himself  to  life  and  to  business,  and 
said,  "I  can  open  no  new  fountain."  And  the  world  was  companionless 
and  solitary  to  his  inward  nature.  Outwardly  it  was  companionable 
enough  ;  but  for  his  own  peculiar  personal  self,  that  had  lived  and  fed 
ui^on  angel's  food,  nothing  remained  when  the  angel  left.  And  he 
said  to  himself,  "  If  there  is  anything  in  religion,  now  is  the  time  for 
me  to  try  it."     And  so  that  man  entered  upon  a  religious  life. 

Another  man  had  no  companion,  but  he  had  a  little  child.  He 
had  lived  an  unhappy  life  in  his  household;  and  by-and-by  Death, 
which  is  the  great  divorcer,  and  has  a  right  to  divorce,  took  away 
tis  companion  and  his  trouble,  but  left  a  dear  child,  into  which 
he  poured  the  whole  of  his  heart  and  nature.  That  little  gii-1  was 
everything  to  him.  She  was  his  morning  star — for  he  waked  to  think 
of  her  before  any  other  one,  and  to  frolic  with  her,  and  chat  and  prat- 
tle with  her.  And  his  last  thought,  as  he  left  the  house,  was  of  her. 
And  now  and  then  she  gleamed  into  his  thoughts  all  day  long  in  his 
business.  And  when  the  evening  came,  she  was  his  bright  evening 
star.  And  when  he  went  home  at  night,  and  she  greeted  him  at  the 
door,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  inwardly  thanked  God. 

She  sickened  ;  and  he  said  to  God,  "  Kill  me,  but  spare  the  child !" 
And  God  took  the  child.  And  he  said,  "  I  have  nothing  left."  He 
lay  before  God  as  the  flax  lies  before  the  flail,  and  said,  "  Strike .' 
strike !  I  am  dead.  I  am  cut  up  from  the  roots.  Strike !"  He  would 
have  died  if  he  could,  but  he  could  not.  Nobody  can  die  that  wants 
to.  It  is  folks  who  want  to  live  that  die,  apparently.  And  finding 
that  he  could  not  die,  by-and-by  he  got  up  and  crept  into  life  again, 
and  said,  "  What  do  I  care  Avhether  I  make  or  lose  f  He  had  no 
longer  any  motive  for  laying  up  property.  And  so  he  said,  "  If  there 
is  anything  in  religion,  I  am  going  to  tiy  to  get  it.  I  shall  die  if  I  do 
not  have  something."  And  he  gets  religion  to  fill  the  great  void  and 
vacuum  in  his  soul. 

Others  come  into  a  religious  life  by  the  power  of  sympathy.  They 
are  di-awn  toward  it  by  personal  influence.     They  go  into  it  because 


284  TEE  VICTIRIOVS  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

their  comjjanions  are  going  in.  In  a  hundred  such  ways  as  these 
God's  providence  brings  people  into  the  beginnings  of  a  Christian  lifek. 
But  when  a  man  has  once  come  into  it,  his  very  first  experience, 
usually,  whether  he  be  exactly  conscious  of  it  or  not,  is  the  thought 
that  he  is  brought  into  the  presence  of  a  higher  Being — a  higher  Spuit — 
than  he  has  been  wont  to  think  was  near  him.  God  begins  to  mean 
something  to  him.  He  may  not  know  the  divine  attributes ;  he  may 
not  know  the  theological  lore  in  respect  to  the  Deity  ;  but  he  begins 
to  have  through  the  day  a  certain  impression  of  God  present  with  him. 
And  it  is  a  real  operative  impression. 

Tliis  sense  of  God's  presence  is  that  which  is  the  beginning  of  faith 
in  him.  It  opens  the  door  for  the  divine  power  to  inflame  his  soul ; 
that  is,  for  the  divine  mind  to  give  strength  and  inspiration  to  the  no- 
bler and  higher  part  of  his  mind — ^to  his  reason  ;  to  his  whole  moral 
natm'e  ;  to  that  which  is  the  best  and  highest  in  him.  And  no  mat- 
ter what  may  be  the  door  of  experience  through  which  he  came  into 
the  chm'ch,  no  matter  what  sort  of  an  experience  he  had  before  he 
became  a  Chiistian,  if  he  be  true  to  himself  If  when  he  has  begun  a 
Christian  life  he  keeps  the  upper  part  of  his  natm'e  (his  reason,  and  his 
moral  sentiments)  open,  so  that  God's  light  shines  down  into  him,  then 
he  has  the  beginnings  of  a  divinely  inspired  faith  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
recognition  of  gi'eat  tiTiths  and  forces  that  are  supersensuous,  and  that 
lie  in  the  du-ection  of  invisible  and  higher  forms  of  tiiith. 

By  the  enlarging,  by  the  education,  by  the  inspii'ation  of  a  man's 
natm-e,  in  tliis  dnection,  the  beginnings  of  victory  are  planted.  And 
now,  all  the  forces  of  a  man's  nature,  and  all  the  foregoing  habits  of 
his  life,  beginning  here,  will  soon  be  so  changed  as  to  come  into  agi'ee- 
ment  with  his  higher  feelings,  which  will  be  excited  by  the  inshining 
of  God's  soul. 

Men  think  it  is  mysterious ;  but  it  is  not  mysterious.  I  can  give 
you  an  analogue  that  will  show  it  to  you  precisely — only  the  truth  is 
far  gi-eater,  far  richer,  far  more  glorious  and  minute,  than  the  illus- 
tration. 

Take  a  person  of  some  degi'ee  of  sensibility — a  young  woman,  for 
instance — who  has  been  living  in  a  vicious  circle  of  people.  Her 
father  and  mother — emigi'ants — died  on  landing.  She  was  of  good  stock, 
and  had  strong  moral  instincts  ;  but  she  was  a  vagi'ant  child,  and  was 
soon  swept  into  the  swirl  of  poverty  and  vice.  Although  too  young  to 
become  herself  vicious,  yet  she  learned  to  lie,  and  steal,  and  swear — 
with  a  ceitain  inward  compunction — until  by-and-by  some  kind  nature 
brought  her  out  of  the  street,  and  out  of  the  den,  and  into  the  asylum. 
And  then,  speedily,  some  childless  Christian  woman,  wanting  to  adopt 
n  child,  sees  her,  and  likes  her  face  and  make,  and  biings  her  home  to 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  285  ' 

her  house.  This  is  almost  the  first  time  she  has  had  any  du-ect  com- ' 
merce  with  real  truth  and  real  refinement ;  and  at  first  she  has  an  im- 
pulse of  gratitude,  and  admiration,  and  wonder ;  and  in  the  main 
she  is  inspired  by  a  sense  of  gladness  and  of  thankfulness  to  her  bene- 
factress. But  as  she  lives  from  day  to  day,  she  does  not  get  over  al)  her 
bad  tendencies.  Because  she  has  come  to  live  with  and  to  be  the 
daughter  of  this  woman,  she  does  not  get  over  the  love  of  lying,  and 
tricks,  and  dirtiness,  and  meanness,  and  httleness.  The  evil  does  not 
die  in  an  instant  from  her  nature.  Yet  there  is  the  besrinnins:  of  that 
in  her  which  will  by-and-by  overcome  it.  There  is  in  her  a  vague,  un- 
interiDreted  sense  of  something  higher  and  better  than  she  has  known 
before.  And  it  is  all  embodied  in  her  benefactress.  She  heai-s  her 
sing,  and  hears  her  talk,  and  sees  what  kindnesses  she  does  to  others, 
and  how  she  denies  herself  And  this  child,  that  has  never  been  taught 
to  do  anything  except  from  a  selfish  motive,  that  has  lived  where  men 
were  like  so  many  animals,  clawing  and  pawing  for  themselves,  sees 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  kindness  on  principle,  and  kindness  that  is 
done  at  the  expense  of  one's  own  wishes.  The  inference  of  these  things 
works  more  and  more  on  the  better  part  of  her  nature ;  and  she  begins 
to  take  hold  of  herself,  and  to  wi-estle  with  her  own  bad  tendencies. 
And  if  she  be,  as  I  have  supposed  her  to  be,  a  child  of  strong  original 
moral  nature,  she  will,  in  the  com-se  of  a  year,  be  almost  free  fi-om  the 
taint  of  corruption  ;  almost  free  from  deceits ;  almost  free  from  vices. 
And  it  will  be  the  expulsive  power  of  new  love  in  her  soul  that  will 
have  driven  out  all  this  vermin  brood  of  passions.  As  long  as  she  is 
in  the  presence  of  this  benefactress,  she  will  feel  streaming  in  upon  h^r 
nature  those  influences  which  wake  up  her  higher  faculties,  and  give 
them  power  over  her  lower  faculties. 

When  men  are  brought  into  the  Christian  life,  and  they  begin  to 
come  into  communion  with  God,  the  higher  part  of  then-  nature  re- 
ceives such  a  stiuuilus  that  it  has  power  to  dominate  the  lower  part — 
to  control  pride ;  to  hold  in  restraint  deceits ;  to  make  men  gentle,  and 
mild,  and  sweet,  and  forgiving,  and  noble,  and  ennobling.  The  direct 
influence  which  the  spirit  of  God  has  upon  the  human  soul,  is  to  develoi> 
the  good  and  expel  the  evil  tendencies  that  are  in  it. 

There  will,  then,  follow  from  this  beginning  of  a  divine  life  in  the 
soul,  the  suppression  of  many  deeds ;  the  modification  of  bad  habits  ; 
the  restraint  of  inclinations  respecting  the  relations  and  interests  and 
uses  of  diflerent  i)arts  of  the  mind.  There  are  too  many  of  them  to 
mention  now.     They  are  innumerable,  as  it  were. 

There  will  be  a  change  in  our  outward  conformities  to  society;  to 
institutions;  to  new  duties.  There  will  be  the  acceptance  of  standards 
of  morality  which  before  "we  have  not  accepted.     There  will  be  the  lay- 


286  TEE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

ing  aside  of  this  and  tliat  sin  which  were  before  recognized  as  sins,  but 
were  yet  permitted.  | 

But  important  as  these  things  are,  they  are  but  auxiliaries.  Tliere 
is  this  one  work  which  the  new  life  begins  to  accomplisii — namely,  the 
readjustment  of  the  forces  of  the  soul.  It  changes  the  emphasis.  It 
changes  the  point  of  power.  It  determines  whether  the  soul  shall,  with 
all  its  forces,  work  downward  toward  the  selfish  and  sensuous,  or 
whether  by  the  force  that  there  is  in  the  lower  nature,  it  shall  work 
upward  toward  the  spiritual  and  the  love  element — towai'd  purity  and 
duty. 

For,  the  entrance  of  God's  spirit  into  the  soul,  the  regenerating 
process,  as  it  is  called,  the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  does  not  destroy 
nor  eradicate  any  constitutional  element.  When  the  doctor  says,  "You 
have  been  all  running  down,  but  I  will  take  you  in  hand  and  lestore 
you;  1  will  renovate  you  and  make  you  just  as  good  as  new ;  you  will 
be  a  new  man  when  you  have  gone  through  the  course  that  I  shall  pre- 
scribe for  you,"  he  does  not  mean  that  you  will  have  any  other  legs  and 
hands,  or  any  other  organs.  He  simply  means  that  they  will  be  so  re- 
pau-ed  and  regulated  that  it  will  be  as  if  they  were  new.  And  when  it 
is  said  that  a  man  shall  be  a  new  creature,  it  is  not  meant  that  literally 
there  will  be  any  added  faculties  in  him,  or  that  there  will  be  any  old 
faculties  taken  out  of  him.  He  was  made  right  to  begin  with.  The  mis- 
chief is  not  in  om'  creation,  but  in  the  use  which  we  put  ourselves  to. 
We  use  ourselves  badly.  And  when  we  enter  upon  a  Christian  life,  it  is 
a  life  which  teaches  us  to  use  every  faculty  in  ourselves  as  God  meant 
that  it  should  be  used.  There  will  be  no  change  of  any  constituent  ele- 
ment in  us.  Characters  will  change.  The  power  will  be  transferred 
from  the  bottom  to  the  top.  ,  All  the  passions  of  our  animal  and  secular 
nature  will  be  brought- into  the  servi-ce  of  love,,  and  purity  and  truth. 

But,  as  no  abstract  statement  ever  amounts  to  as  much  as  a  con- 
crete example,  consider  some  cases  which  we  have  in  the  Bible.  Take 
Peter,  for  instance.  What  a  stalwart,  impetuous  man  he  was!  Bold, 
rash,  headlong,  and  changeable,  was  he.  It  seems  at  first  as  though  a 
man  who  is^bold  should  not  be  changeable;  but  it  is  very  often  the 
case  that  he*is.  At  any  rate,  it  was  so  with  Peter.  And  how,  when 
you  come  to  trace  his  life  later  on,  the  power  of  grace  hud  cured  all  the 
unfavorable  tendencies  of  his  natui-e,  without  taking  away  his  impetu- 
osity, or  his  courage !  How  his  nature  had  been  regulated,  so  that  he  is 
said  to  have  been  in  his  later  days  one  of  the  noblest  of  the  apostles ! 

Even  more  familiarly,  we  know  the  process  in  the  case  of  John. 
He  was  one  of  those  irritable  men  that  you  see  sometimes — men  that 
are  not  boistei'ous  ;  that  are  very  serene,  very  trancjuil,  aj)i)arently,  but 
that,  when  you  know  them  more  intimately,  you  fin],  and  are  surprised 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  287 

to  find,  are  as  quick  as  gunpowder,  and  go  off  with  a  flash.  They  are 
u-ritable,  akliough  tliere  is  this  exterior  softness.  John  was  the  on<» 
that  disputed  as  to  which  should  be  first.  He  was  ambitious.  He  was 
the  one  that,  when  they  were  going  into  a  village,  was  angry  at  the 
villagers  because  they  did  not  do  obeisance  to  the  Master,  and  prayed 
that  fire  might  be  brought  down  from  heaven  to  consume  them — a 
mode  of  controversy  which  has  beeii  a  favorite  one  ever  since.  It 
settles  an  antagonist  very  quick  to  hum  Mm  \ip  !  Although  John 
originally  had  this  irritableness,  he  afterwards  became  the  world's  ideal 
of  gentleness,  and  sweetness,  and  love.  What  a  transformation  that 
was,  from  the  angry  burning  John,  of  the  earlier  period  of  his  life,  to 
that  inspired  John,  of  which  the  world  has  never  heard  enough,  and  is 
likely  to  never  the  of  hearing. 

The  life  of  Paul  was  still  more  open  before  us.  He  was  naturally 
a  leader — and  as  much  so  after  his  conversion  as  before.  He  was  one 
of  those  med  that  go  ahead,  not  because  they  are  ambitious,  but  be- 
cause they  cannot  help  themselves,  any  more  than  cork  or  wood  can 
help  coming  to  the  surface  of  water.  Some  men  lead  because  they  are 
made  to  lead,  preeminently.  And  Paul  was  such  a  man.  He  was  a 
man  of  immense  conscience,  immense  pride,  and  immense  combative- 
ness.  He  was  converted.  His  conscience  did  not  diminish ;  his  pride 
did  not  shrink  ;  his  combativeness  did  not  flow  out.  All  those  great 
elements  remained  in  him.  Before  he  was  converted,  his  conscience 
worked  with  the  malign  feelings.  Afterwards,  his  conscience  woi'ked 
with  the  benevolent  feelings:  Before  he  was  converted,  his  j^ride 
worked  for  selfishness.  ^Ai'ter  he  was  converted  his  pride  worked  for 
benevolence.  Before  he  was  converted,  his  combativeness  worked  for 
cinielty.     After  he  was  converted,  it  worked  for  zeal. 

Look   at  his  own  description  of  himself      He  says,  in  Acts,  the 

twentieth  chapter,  beginning  with  the  vhith  verse, 

"I  verily  thought  with  myself  that  I  onp-V*;  to  do  many  things  contrary  to  the  name 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.    Which  thing  I  alpo  did.'' 

I  will  warrant  it.  He  never  'Jicrght  he  ought  to  do  a  thing  that 
he  did  not  try  to  do  it. 

"  And  many  of  tbc  saints  did  I  '•'h^\i  i«p  in  prison,  having  received  authority  from  the 
chief  pricsfs;  ai;d  n-hen  thoy  wore  put  to  death  I  gave  my  voice  airainst  them.  And  I 
punished  them  oft  in  every  synagogue,  and  compelled  them  to  blaspheme  ;  and  being 
exceedingly  mad  against  them,  1  ^e^S'.cuted  them  even  unto  strange  cities." 

Such  was  Paul  before  he  was  converted,  according  to  his  own  de- 
scription of  himself  Now  hear  Paul  give  an  account  of  liimsclf  af- 
terwards, when  he  told  what  he  did  as  a  Christian,  as  contained  in  the 
second  chapter  of  1st  Thessolonians,  beginning  with  the  seventh  verse : 

"  Wo  were  gentle  among  you,  even  as  a  nurse  cherisheth  her  children:  so  being 
affectionately  desirous  of  you,  we  were  willing  to  have  imparted  unto  you,  not  the  gospel 
of  God  only,  but  also  our  own  souls,  because  ye  were  dear  unto  us.    For  yo  remember, 


288  TEE  VICTOBIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

brethren,  our  labor  and  travail ;  for  the  laboring  night  and  day,  because  we  would  not 
be  chargeable  unto  any  of  you,  we  preached  unto  you  the  gospel  of  God.  Ye  are  wit- 
nesses, and  God,  also,  how  holily,  and  justly,  and  unblameably  we  behaved  ourselves 
among  you  that  believe;  as  ye  know  how  we  exhorted,  and  comforted,  and  charged  every 
one  of  you,  as  a  father  doth  his  children,  that  ye  would  walk  worthy  of  God." 

Now,  in  both  cases  he  was  doing  the  same  thing.  "When  he  went 
to  Damascus,  he  was  attempting  to  promote  religion.  He  was  putting 
down  the  disciples  of  Christ  in  order  to  make  them  conform  to  what 
he  believed  to  be  God's  service.  And  afterwards,  when  he  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  worked  to  build  it  up,  he  had 
precisely  the  same  end  in  view.  But  now  he  was  working  with  the 
other  end  of  his  mind.  At  first  it  was  pride  and  conscience  acting 
with  the  malign  feelings.  Afterwards,  it  was  pride  and  conscience  act- 
ing with  the  benign  feelings.  And  his  earlier  self  and  his  later  self 
were  perfectly  antagonistic.  His  unconverted  nature  was  antithetical 
to  his  converted  natui'e.  The  spu-it  of  love  developed  itself  into  as- 
cendancy; but  ccnscicnce  was  strong  as  ever.  It  was  then  justice  and 
truth,  whereas,  before,  it  had  been  eiTor  and  cruelty;  and  honor  and 
equity  never  had  a  more  noble  exponent  than  Paul  after  his  conversion. 
All  his  life  he  was  using  precisely  the  same  faculties ;  but  in  one  case 
he  used  them  in  direction  of  love,  and  in  the  other  case  he  used  them 
in  the  direction  of  self 

Paul  was  so  proud,  in  the  early  period  of  his  life  that  it  was  dan- 
gerous for  one  to  oppose  him.  Afterwards  he  was  just  as  proud  ;  but 
now  his  pride  was  self-respect.  It  was  a  pride  directed  and  leavened 
by  love  ;  it  was  a  pride  working  for  love,  as  well  as  in  the  spuit  of 
love.  There  is  not  in  litei-ature  another  instance  of  such  superlative 
egotism,  such  superb  egotism,  such  acceptable  egotism,  as  there  is  in 
Paul's  writings.  He  never  sees  a  person,  or  meets  an  experience,  or 
thinks  a  thought,  that  he  does  not  tell  you  how  he  felt  about  it.  It  is 
"  I,"  and  "  I,"  and  "  I,"  right  straight  through  from  beginning  to  end. 
That  which  made  him  so  despotic  and  intolerent  before  his  conversion, 
and  afterwards  so  sympathetic  and  gentle,  was  his  intense  I-ness.  And 
when  he  identified  himself  with  the  truth  of  God,  he,  as  it  were,  took 
the  whole  of  it  into  his  personality.  So  that  the  same  pride  which 
characterized  him  b?foi-e  his  conversion  characterized  him  afterwards. 
It  was  not  destroyed  when  his  nature  was  changed.  The  difference 
was  that  in  one  case  it  woi'ked  malignly,  and  in  the  other  benignly. 

When,  therefore,  a  man  enters  into  a  Christian  life,  not  only  does 
he  come  into  communion  with  God,  but  his  nature  is  newly  directed. 
He  begins  to  make  the  upper,  the  truly  spiritual,  the  love-bearing  ele- 
ments in  him  dominate  over  the  others.  No  man  can  change  his  fac- 
ulties, any  more  than  he  can  change  his  bodily  organization  ;  and  yet, 
his  disposition  may  be  changed !      Every  single  wrong  element  in  a 


'K 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  289 . 

man  may  be  subdued ;  but  it  requii-es  that  he  should  be  in  earnest,  and 
use  the  right  inthicnces.  There  is  not  one  single  sin  that  a  man  can- 
not break  away  from.  There  is  not  one  single  evil  habit  that  a  man 
cannot  correct.  There  is  not  one  single  perversion  of  a  man's  nature 
that  he  cannot  rectify.  There  is  not  one  tendency  of  selfishness,  of 
passion,  of  lust,  or  of  avarice,  that  cannot  be  overcome. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  should  go  into  church  to  be  just  a 
little  better.  There  is  that  in  every  man  which,  if  he  wull  only  let 
God  quicken  it — if  he  will  only  let  God  shed  the  vivific  influence  of 
his  Spirit  ujson  it — is  competent  to  give  him  complete  possession  of 
himself  in  righteousness.  It  may  be  very  hard  for  a  lazy  man  to  be- 
come active ;  but  he  can  do  it.  It  may  be  very  hard  for  a  proud  man 
to  become  humble  ;  but  he  can  do  it.  It  may  be  very  hard  for  a  selfish 
man  to  become  truly  benevolent ;  but  he  can  do  it.  It  may  be  very 
hard  for  a  sly  man  to  become  open  and  frank ;  but  he  can  do  it.  It  may 
be  very  hard  for  an  insincere  man,  full  of  appearances  and  specious 
conduct,  to  become  sincere  and  straight  forward ;  but  he  can  do  it.  It 
may  be  very  hard  for  a  man  who  is  critical,  sharp,  and  uncharitable, 
and  lances  his  neighbor's  faults  while  he  spares  his  own,  to  become  as 
considerate  of  others'  feelings  and  reputation  as  of  his  own  ;  but  he  can 
do  it.  You  can  do  anything.  There  is  nothing  that  is  wrong  in  the 
human  soul  that  cannot  be  put  right.  And  you  have  the  power  to  put 
it  right,  provided  you  are  clothed  with  the  Spuit  from  above ;  provid- 
ed you  take  into  your  hands  the  implements  that  come  from  the  armory 
of  God.  There  is  power  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  a  perfect  victoiy 
over  the  flesh,  the  appetites  and  the  passions,  and  to  bring  you  into  the 
supremest  triumph  of  the  spkitual  life. 

Let  no  man,  then,  coddle  his  faults,  and  say,  "  I  was  made  as  I  am, 
and  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  be  an  eminent  Christian.  That  is  an- 
other question — how  far  it  is  possible  for  you  to  be  an  eyninent  Chris- 
tian, in  the  sense  of  experiencing  original  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
beaiing  into  the  world  a  new  tide  of  ideas ;  but  in  so  far  as  the  rectificar- 
tion  of  your  own  natiu-e  is  concerned,  God  has  given  you  power  to 
govern  yourself  There  is  no  man  who  wants  to  do  it  enough  to  say, 
"  Lord,  increase  my  faith,"  that  cannot  do  it.  There  ai'e  a  gi-eat  many 
that  will  not  do  it  if  they  do  not  ask,  and  do  not  want  to ;  but  there 
are  a  great  many  men  who  will  make  shipwreck  of  their  souls  because 
they  were  never  morally  incited  to  look  toward  better  things.  They 
go  into  a  sort  of  calculation  with  themselves,  as  to  how  far  away  from 
old  sins  it  is  necessary  for  a  soul  to  go,  just  to  be  saved,  and  how  near 
to  them  one  can  go  and  yet  be  saved.  They  do  not  want  to  make  a 
total  renunciation.  There  are  a  thousand  fibres  yet  that  hold  them  to 
the  world. 


290  THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITE. 

Consider,  here,  how  strong  that  figure  of  our  Saviour's  is.  I  suppose 
most  of  you  have  never  taken  up  a  tree.  If  you  have,  and  it  was  of 
any  size,  you  know  that  a  tree,  which  looks  as  though  it  were  one  stem 
gi'owing  out  of  the  ground,  is  found  to  have,  the  moment  you  undertake 
to  transplant  it,  five  hundi-ed  stems  under  ground.  Here  is  one  great 
root,  that  you  never  knew  anything  about,  by  which  it  anchors  itself; 
and  there  is  another  there  ;  and  there  is  another  yonder.  You  take  off 
the  ground  and  cut  away  this  root,  and  then  shake  the  tree,  and  it 
stands  just  as  though  nothing  had  been  done.  You  remove  the  earth 
and  cut  off  that  long  anchor-root ;  and  then  you  say,  "  Now  it  will 
come."  No,  it  will  not  come.  You  dig  again — a  little  impatient — ■ 
with  pick  and  spade,  and  you  find  that  here  is  another  root,  and  there 
is  another  root ;  and  as  you  cut  them  off  you  say  to  yourself,  "  Will  it 
never  come  up  ?"  And  you  pull  at  it  again.  No,  it  will  not  come. 
And  you  get  quite  vexed,  and  you  have  an  opportunity  to  get  good- 
natured  again ;  for  it  does  not  come.  By  and  by  you  say,  "  Well,  I 
will  see  what  is  the  matter  "  ;  and  with  the  pick  you  strike  under,  and 
under,  and  under,  until  all  at  once,  thump,  you  hit  a  great  tap-root. 
That  sheds  new  light  on  the  subject.  Here  are  all  these  surface  roots 
that  you  have  uncovered  and  cut ;  and  finding  that  then  the  tree  will 
not  budge,  you  dig  far  under,  and  to  your  surprise  find  this  tap-root ; 
and  with  one  powerful,  sidelong  blow  you  cut  that  off,  and  the  tree 
falls  over,  and  the  victory  is  gained  ! 

Now,  that  is  very  much  like  transplanting  a  man.  There  are  ever 
so  many  roots  that  hold  him  down.  All  the  surface  is  full  of  them. 
They  run  great  distances  in  every  direction,  dividing,  bifurcating, 
twisting  under  stones,  and  around  all  sorts  of  obstructions.  And  when 
all  these  surface  roots  have  been  cut  he  is  not  half  ready  to  transplant. 
You  must  dig  under  and  under,  till  you  come  to  the  tap-root,  that  was 
far  out  of  sight,  and  that  nobody  suspected,  and  cut  that ;  and  then 
you  can  transplant  the  man. 

The  Lord  says,  "  If  you  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  you 
can  say  to  this  sycamine-tree.  Be  thou  plucked  up  by  the  roots,  and 
cast  into  the  sea."  Hard  as  it  is  to  transplant  the  tree  of  your  soul, 
difficult  as  it  is  to  sever  the  roots  that  hold  it  down,  the  Master  says, 
"There  is  po\f^er  to  do  it."  However  many  foults  you  may  have,  that 
branch  their  roots  out  in  every  du-ection,  and  difficult  as  it  is  to  trans- 
plant them  by  the  ordinary  instrumentalities ;  nevertheless,  faith  in  the 
soul  will  give  you  power  to  pluck  them  up  by  the  roots,  and  cast  them 
from  you,  or  transplant  them  to  better  soil,  where  they  wUl  grow  to  a 
better  purpose. 

And  no  man  who  is  entering  the  precincts  of  a  higher  lifej  no  man 
who  is  drawing  near  to  the  twilight  of  his  true  manhood ;  no  man  who 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  291 

begins  to  know  that  lie  is  a  son  of  God,  and  begins  to  hear  voices  whose 
meaning  he  can  scarcely  discern,  and  begins  to  recognize  the  call  of 
God,  and  to  respond  to  that  call  by  beginning  to  live  in  obedience  to 
his  higlier  instead  of  his  lower  nature — no  such  man  ought  to  say,  "I 
can  be  a  Christian  a  little  way."  My  brother,  you  can  be  a  Christian 
all  the  way.  There  is  nothing  in  you  that,  if  you  have  started  on  the 
Christian  course,  is  so  bad  that  you  cannot  overcome  it  by  the  grace  of 
God.  It  is  your  privilege  to  receive  power  from  on  high  that  shall 
give  your  will  such  firmness,  and  your  judgment  such  directness,  and 
your  moral  feelings  such  pretlominance,  that  you  shall  be  able  to  over- 
come any  passion  or  appetite.  Whatever  may  be  your  sin,  whatever 
may  be  your  lust,  whatever  may  be  your  vice,  it  is  in  your  power  to 
correct  it.  No  man  should  in  a  cowardly  way  enter  upon  a  Christian 
life,  saying,  "  I  can  do  some  things,  and  I  can  live  better  than  I  have 
been  living."  You  can  live  victoriously.  God  gives  you  the  power — 
and  he  will  refresh  and  invigorate  that  power  in  every  man's  soul. — to 
overcome  every  snare,  every  delusion,  every  passion  and  appetite,  every- 
thing that  is  wrong  in  you,  and  to  become  perfectly  victorious. 

I  preach,  not  simply  a  free  gospel,  but  a  victorious  gospel.  I  preach 
a  gospel  that  has  been  full  of  victories  and  noble  achievements,  but  that 
has  not  yet  begun  to  show  what  its  full  power  and  what  all  its  fruits  of 
victory  ai"e  to  be.  No  one,  then,  who  has  been  trying  to  overcome  his 
faults,  need  despair. 

I  have  a  door  Avitli  a  patent  lock,  which  was  designed  to  keq? 
burglars  out,  and  Avliich  I  know  will,  because  it  keeps  the  owner  out  a 
good  deal  of  the  time  !  I  go  and  put  in  the  key,  and  push,  and  wait 
for  the  bolt  to  fly  back  with  a  click — for  only  when  that  is  heard  is  it 
worth  while  to  attempt  to  open  tiie  door ;  but  it  does  not  come.  The 
door  now  and  then  has  the  sulks ;  and  I  have  sometimes  stood,  and 
stood,  and  stood,  working  at  that  lock.  There  was  no  help  for  it.  It 
was  a  choice  between  staying  out  and  opening  that  door.  I  have  had  to 
try  perhaps  twenty  times  before  I  could  just  exactly  hit  that  little  slide 
inside.  And  I  have  taken  hold  of  the  handle,  and  pushed,  and  pushed, 
and  pushed,  and  said,  "  I  am  bound  to  get  in  ;  I  rnust  get  in  ;  I  ^oill 
get  in."  And  after  infinite  attempts,  at  last  I  hear  the  Avelcome  click. 
If  I  had  given  up  after  a  few  trials,  I  might  have  found  my  lodging 
where  I  could ;  but  I  said  to  the  door,  "  You  have  got  to  come  open  : 
you  shall  come  open  ;"  and  I  did  get  it  open,  and  got  in. 

Did  you  ever  lose  the  key  to  a  trunk  or  drawer,  and  go  round  and 
borrow  keys  of  your  friends  to  ojien  it  with  ?  And  have  you  failed  to 
find  one  that  would  unlock  it?  And  have  you  said,  "I  viust  get  it 
open.  jNIy  money  is  in  there,  and  I  will  pick  the  lock,  or  break  it,  if  I 
cannot  do  any  better  ?" 


292  THE  VICT0BI0U8  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

Oh !  if  in  the  soul  there  was  the  same  diligence  ;  if  you  came  up 
to  a  vulue  and  said,  "  I  know  it  is  in  here,  and  it  shall  come  out ;  I 
will  try  this  key,  and  that,  and  I  will  not  be  baffled ;  and  I  will  bring 
in  this  one,  and  that  one,  and  the  other  one,  to  help  me ;  and  if  there  is 
no  other  way  I  will  play  burglar — for  it  has  got  to  come  out ;"  your 
success  in  right  living  would  be  certain.  Did  you  ever  see  a  drawer 
that  did  not  come  open  when  you  went  to  it  with  such  determination  ? 

But  suppose  you  had  sat  down  before  your  bureau,  and  said,  "  Do 
come  out  drawer — please  come  out !"  You  would  have  acted  as  Chris- 
tians do  when  they  stand  before  vulues  and  gi-aces,  and  say,  "  I  wish 
I  was  humble."  No,  you  do  not  wish  you  were  humble  either  !  "  I 
wish  I  could  get  over  my  self-indulgence.  I  sometimes  think  I  will." 
Is  that  the  way  the  man  talks  who  is  pursuing  a  Christian  life  ?  Is 
that  the  meaning  of  "Strive  (agonize)  to  enter  in"? 

If  there  is  anything  in  this  world  that  is  worth  having,  it  is  a  nobler 
virtue  than  you  have  now ;  it  is  liberty  in  the  better  part  of  your  soul ; 
it  is  dominion  over  those  things  which  are  sensuous,  wicked,  devilish, 
in  your  nature.  And  if  you  sought  for  these  things  as  you  seek  for 
hid  treasm-e,  or  for  treasm*e  that  is  lost,  you  would  be  sm"e  to  obtain 
them. 

A  man  has  lost  a  title-deed,  or  some  paper  that  would  decide  a  suit 
in  his  favor,  rather  than  against  him.  And  with  what  alacrity  does  he 
search  for  it!  How  does  he  go  through  the  house  in  quest  of  it!  "My 
dear,  have  you  seen  that  roll  of  paper  with  a  great  red  seal  on  it  T 
"What  was  it?  A  newspaper?"  "No,  qio!  not  a  newspaper.  I 
shall  lose  a  suit  if  I  cannot  find  it."  And  she  searches  in  every  di'awer, 
and  every  trunk,  and  every  closet,  and  even  under  the  car2:)ets.  Both 
of  them  search  night  and  day,  going  over  the  same  places  twenty  times, 
saying,  "  Maybe  I  did  not  look  thoroughly."  And  they  cannot  give  it 
up.  They  wonder  what  on  earth  has  become  of  that  paper.  "  Those 
servants  are  always  doing  some  mischief — is  it  possible  that  they  have 
carried  it  off?"  The  man  almost  cries,  he  wants  it  so  much.  He  will 
have  it,  so  much  depends  uj^on  it.  And  at  last  he  finds  it,  and  he 
says,  "  I  would  rather  have  had  my  house  burned,  than  not  to  have 
found  this  paper," 

Now,  when  men  search  for  victorious  virtues  in  their  souls,  as  they 
would  search  for  an  important  legal  document,  do  you  suppose  they 
will  be  saying,  "Perhaps  others  may  be  able  to  live  a  good  Christian 
life,  but  I  cannot "  ?  You  can.  And  when  you  want  true  religion  ; 
when  your  soul  hungers  for  it,  you  will  find  it.  When  you  cry  out  for 
God,  he  will  cry  out  for  you.  There  was  never  a  heait  homesick  for 
heaven,  that  heaven  was  not  liomesick  for  it.  Never  did  a  soul  long 
for  God,  that  God  did  not  long  for  that  soul.     And  there  is  not  one 


TUE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  293 

thing  that  you  need — not  one  single  victory  over  wrong ;  not  one  sin- 
gle virtue  ;  not  one  single  triumph  of  a  better  desu*e  over  a  baser  one — 
that  if  you  put  into  it  faith,  Christ  does  not  say  to  you,  "  If  you  have 
as  much  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  you  shall  pluck  out  the  worst 
thing,  and  cast  it  into  the  sea." 

Oh,  blessed  promise !  oh,  sweet  revelation  of  truth !  oh,  divine 
and  evcr-to-be-adored  declaration  of  mercy !  that  there  is  stored  in  every 
one  that  victorious  power  by  which  we  are  able  to  subdue  the  enemy 
that  is  in  us,  and  put  down  the  animal,  and  rise  into  the  spiritual,  and 
become  worthy  to  be  called  the  children  of  God. 

Have  you  tried  this.  Christian  brethren  ?  Abandon  all  half-way 
measures,  and  try  it  heartily,  earnestly,  thoroughly.  Speak  to  your 
childi'en,  and  comfort  them,  and  show  them  the  way  to  these  victories. 
Speak  to  those  who  are  just  beginning  a  Chiistian  life,  and  encourage 
them  to  persevere. 

I  know  it  is  hai"d  to  turn  a  life  that  is  misdirected  into  right  chan- 
nels ;  I  know  it  is  hard  to  change  wrong  feeling  to  right  feeling ;  but 
it  can  be  done.  And  the  victory  will  pay  for  the  struggle.  Not  those 
victories  which  come  easiest  are  most  sweet  to  us. 

When  through  the  battle,  through  the  night  and  its  watches, 
thi'ough  marches  over  stream  and  through  morass,  and  through  loss 
upon  loss,  Sherman  at  last  saw  glimmering  the  spii'es  of  the  far  oflf  city 
on  the  Gulf,  do  you  not  think  all  the  toil  and  labor  of  the  great  way 
was  repaid  by  that  one  single  first  sight  ?  The  march  and  the  battle 
were  behind  him.  The  hardship  was  over,  and  the  victory  was  in  his 
hand. 

When  we  draw  near  to  that  other  and  better  city  whose  bright 
domes  flash  God's  eternal  light,  and  over  whose  battlements  come 
sweet  voices  to  us  to-day,  saying,  "  Come — come,"  one  single  look, 
one  waft  of  its  perfume,  one  echo  of  its  joy,  will  repay  us  for  every 
tear,  for  every  sorrow,  and  for  every  discouragement. 

Then  gird  up  your  loins,  dear  brethren.  Take  a  new  lease  of  life. 
Form  a  higher  purpose  for  the  future.  Have  more  courage — not  cour- 
age which  comes  from  a  consciousness  of  your  own  strength,  but  that 
courage  which  comes  from  the  certainty  that  "  it  is  God  which  worketh 
in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure."  Oh,  children 
of  the  living  God,  my  Father's  childi'en,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  heu'S 
with  me  to  an  eternal  inheritance !  let  us  take  hold  of  hands  to- 
day, with  a  new  covenant,  with  new  Sweetness  of  love  and  joy,  and 
begin  to  live  for  the  heavenly  land.    ' 


294  TnE  VICTORIOUS  power  of  faith. 

rilAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  rejoice  that  we  walk  in  no  strange  way  when  wo  seek  thee,  our  Father.  Not  s«» 
familiar  to  our  footsteps  was  our  father's  nouse  on  earth  as  now  to  our  feet  is  out 
Father's  house  in  heaven.  We  have  sought  thee  through  storms  and  through  sunshiuo. 
We  have  sought  thee  through  sorrow  and  through  joy.  We  have  sought  thee  in  weak- 
ness and  in  strength.  And  thou  hast  never  been  shut  off  from  us.  When  thou  didst 
hide  thy  face,  it  was  only  as  we  sometimes  hide  our  face  from  our  children  that  Ihey 
may  be  the  happier  in  our  coming  again.  Thou  nast  dealt  with  us  very  tenderly.  Thy 
providences  have  been  very  gentle.  The  things  which  we  have  mourned  we  have  not 
nnderstood;  and  that  which  seemed  as  rudeness  to  us  was  no  rudeness  but  mercy.  For 
thou  dost  work  by  light  and  by  darkness  alike.  Joys  and  sorrows  are  both  the  element? 
of  love  and  mercy  in  thine  hand.  Thou  dost  mingle  affairs  so  as  to  work  out  in  us  h. 
noble  manhood.  It  is  net  to  bless  us  now  but  to  blrss  us  forever,  that  thou  art  working 
in  us.  It  is  not  to  make  us  happy  but  to  make  us  s^^  good  that  we  cannot  but  be  hai)py. 
And  thou  art  preparing  for  tomorrow  by  sacrilieing  to-day.  Thou  art  eternally  work- 
ing the  best  things  for  the  best  euds.  Thou  art  rearing  us  out  of  the  animal  kingdom, 
and  bringing  us  through  manhood  into  the  sopship  of  God,  and  preparing  to  ex;ilt  u? 
into  the  spiritual  realm,  and  to  make  us  worthy  of  crowns  and  of  sceptres  and  of  thrones 
and  of  liberty  and  dominion  forever  and  forever.  Rebuke  in  us,  therefore,  O  thou  benefi- 
cent Father,  all  vulgarity,  all  groveling  dispositions,  all  pride,  all  self-indulgence.  Wo 
confess  that  we  sin  by  selfishness,  and  by  every  evil  passion.  We  confess  that  we  are 
continually  prone  to  revert  to  earth,  and  to  find  our  joy  in  things  sensuous.  We  confess 
that  every  single  day  we  disturb  the  harmony  and  purity  of  our  souls.  Every  single 
day  we  need  thee,  both  for  patience,  and  forstrength,  and  for  forgiveness,  and  for  cleans- 
ing, and  for  inspiration,  yea,  and  for  hope.  We  are  most  bold  in  audacity  at  times,  and 
thrust  ourselves  into  great  trouble;  and  then  straightway  we  repent,  and  are  utterly  dis- 
couraged and  desponding,  and  are  disposed  to  cast  away  our  hope,  and  ^o  cease  eveiy 
endeavor  for  a  better  life.  We  need  thee,  O  Lord,  on  both  sides — above  us  and  beneath 
us,  before  us  and  behind  us,  to  be  all  to  us — to  be  all  in  all. 

We  rt-joiee  that  thou  art,  and  hast  been,  gentle  and  loving;  and  tliat  thou  hast  taken 
thy  very  titles  from  the  universality  and  continuance  of  thy  gentleness  and  love.  And 
we  pray  that  we  may  be,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  led  to  repentance,  and  by  the  gentleness 
of  Christ  persuaded  to  a  nobler  life. 

Wo  beseech.of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  this  morning,  the  ministration  of  thy 
mercy,  adapted  to  the  special  wants  of  each  one  in  thy  presence— to  the  wants  of  the 
young,  and  to  the  wants  of  the  old  ;  to  the  wants  of  those  who  are  in  the  midst  of 
vehement  struggles,  and  to  the  wants  of  those  who  are  outcast,  and  who  require  divine 
help;  to  the  wants  of  all  that  are  in  danger  of  self-indulgence.  Grant  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  sinfulness  of  their  hearts  miiy  keep  none  from  the  confidence  of  thy  love  this 
morning.  May  every  one  have  the  sweet  assurance  tnat  God  is  interested  in  him,  and 
that  God  loves  him,  and  that  God  is  drauing  him,  and  is  overcoming  sin  in  him,  and 
healing  the  desire  of  sin  in  him.  And  may  every  one  be  disposed  to  come  back  to  the 
best  Friend  that  even  sin  has  in  the  soul.  Grant  that  every  one  may  remember  that  for 
him,  while  yet  an  enemy,  thou  didst  gis^e  thy  Son,  and  that  Jesus  died.  And  we  pray 
that  there  may  be  hope,  not  to  presume  in  sin,  but  to  assail  the  mightiest  sin,  and  to 
break  it  by  the  power  which  God  shall  give  to  us. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  those  who  are  in  responsibility  for  others,  ruling  over 
them  in  the  household,  or  in  any  of  the  avocations  ot  life,  may  be  like  thee.  May  they 
bo  to  those  that  are  under  them,  what  thou  art  to  them — as  generous;  as  gentle;  as  for- 
bearing; as  patient;  as  disinterestciUy  seeking  tbeir  welfare. 

Wo  beseech  of  thee  that  we  may  be  diligent  in  business,  and  yet  fervent  in  spirit, 
serving  the  Lord;  doing  with  our  might  what  our  hands  find  to  do;  remembering  that 
the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work,  and  that  what  we  do  we  must  do  pn  sently. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  those  who  are  young,  and  are  enter- 
ng  upon  life,  may  enter  with  a  more  resolute  and  virtuous  manhot  d  than  those  who  have 


THE  VICTORIOUS  POWER  OF  FAITH.  295 

preceded  them.  May  there  be  none  who  shall  enter  upon  life  as  upon  a  playsrround,  to 
seek  there  their  own  amusement  and  enjoyment.  May  every  one  remember  His  calling. 
May  every  one  put  high  before  him  the  great  enterprises  and  duties  of  life.  May  all 
gird  up  their  loins;  and,  because  they  are  young  and  strong,  may  they  go  forward  in  the 
service  and  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  all  those  who  are  in  darkness— for  there  are 
many  upon  whom  thy  hand  has  rested  hea^ily.  Comfort  their  sorrows.  Grant  that 
bereavements  may  not  betray  their  confidence  in  thee.  The  more  they  suffer,  the  nearer 
may  they  press  to  the  all-sympathizing  heart  of  God.  Draw  near  to  any  that  are  friend- 
less and  in  perplexity;  to  any  that  are  overmatched  by  their  struggles  in  life;  to  any 
that  are  overmastered  by  temptation.  But  thou,  O  God,  art  full  of  mightiness  for  othcraf 
as  well  as  for  thyself;  and  thou  wilt  not  suffer  them  to  be  tempted  beyond  what  they  are 
able  to  bear.  If  they  come  to  thee  ingenuously,  thou  wilt  open  a  door  to  them  of  escape. 
A.nd  we  commend  the  tempted  to  thee,  that  thou  mayest  succor  them.  May  they  bf 
■willing  to  be  succored. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  outcast,  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the  wanderers— 
those  that  do  not  know  better  than  to  live  in  hatreds,  in  strifes,  in  eveiy  evil  passion. 
Grant  that  we  may  not  turn  inhumanly  away  from  them,  as  if  they  were  not  of  us;  as  if 
they  did  not  belong  to  our  households;  as  if  they  were  not  men  like  ourselves;  as  if 
they  were  not  parts  of  the  great  family  to  which  we  belong.  Grant  that  those  who  go 
forth  especially  to  seek  them,  to  preach  to  them,  to  relieve  them  aud  to  succor  them, 
may  themselves  be  filled  with  the  Spirit  of  the  Master.  May  they  have,  also,  the  bless- 
ing of  God  resting  upon  their  fidelity.  May  none  bo  weary  in  well-doing.  May  none 
turn  back  from  well-doing  because  they  find  among  the  poor  and  needy  ingratitude, 
intractableness,  indocility,  and  all  manner  of  evil  requitings.  May  they,  too,  bear  men's 
sins  and  carry  their  sorrows,  as  Christ  bore  our  sins  and  carried  our  sorrows.  And  so 
may  they  learn  to  follow  Christ  through  good  report,  and  through  evil  report,  and  exalt 
the  conception  of  a  Christian  manhood  in  the  eyes  of  men. 

We  pray,  O  Lord,  that  thou  wilt  fill  thy  people  more  and  mo-e  with  the  fruits  of 
righteousness.  Make  them  more  lovely.  Grant  that  men  may  behold  in  them  the  evi- 
dences of  true  religion. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless,  not  ourselves  alone,  but  all  the  Churches 
that  are  gathered  to-day  of  every  name.  Strengthen  all  that  are  called  to  speak  the 
truth,  and  enable  them  to  speak  it  in  love.  And  may  all  that  listen  receive  seed  iato 
good  and  honest  hearts.  Grant  that  the  blessing  of  God  may  go  forth  with  all  the 
preachers  that,  throughout  this  great  land  to-day,  are  lifting  up  their  voices  and  bearing 
testimony  of  the  truth. 

Grant  that  all  schools,  and  all  colleges,  and  all  labors  for  civilization,  may  have  thy 
blessing. 

Pour  out  thy  Spirit  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth.  If  they  have  heard  thee  calling 
in  the  heavens,  and  are  rising  up  and  blindly  following,  send  thou  guides  for  them. 
May  knowledge  prepare  the  way. 

O  Lord,  wilt  thou  fulfill  the  promises  which  respect  the  whole  world.  Bring  down 
the  high  hills,  and  lilt  up  the  valleys.  Make  the  rough  places  smooth,  and  the  crooked 
places  straight.  And  grant  that  all  the  earth  may  see  thy  salvation.  Which  we  ask  for 
Christ  Jesus  sake.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  Father,  -we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  which  we  have  spoken, 
and  make  it  a  living  word  to  every  needing  heart.  Give  power  to  thy  servants  to  preach 
it.  Give  more  power  to  thy  people  to  live  according  to  thy  truth.  Bless  us  while  we 
sing  once  more;  and  go  homo  with  us;  aud  at  last  bring  us  home  to  theo.  Which  we 
ask  for  Christ's  sake.    Avieiu 


XIX. 

The  Peace  of  Gtod, 


INVOCATION. 

Our  Father,  wilt  thou  grant  us  that  spirit  of  light  and  of  life  and  of 
love,  which  shall  bring  forth  in  us  all  those  gracious  affections  by  which 
alone  we  can  know  thee,  and  rise  into  communion  with  thee.  Help  us,  that 
we  forsake  care,  and  sorrow,  and  worldly  thoughts,  and  come,  this  morning, 
ransomed  and  redeemed  from  the  thrall  of  secular  things,  into  the  liberty 
and  the  light  of  the  sons  of  God.  Bless  us  in  reading  thy  Word.  May  it 
be  ours,  and  not  thine  alone — our  Father's  gift ;  and  may  we  appropriate  it, 
and  rejoice  in  it.  Help  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  in  the  communion  of  prayer. 
Help  us  as  we  pray  and  rejoice  in  sacred  song.  And  may  all  the  service3 
of  instruction,  and  every  office  of  devotion,  this  day,  here,  and  everywhere, 
be  divinely  guided,  and  accepted,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.    Amen. 


/• 


'C 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 


"  Ariel  the  pence  of  God,  ■vrhich  passeth  all  understanding,  shall  keep  year  hearts  and  minds 
through  Christ  J eb us."— PiiiL.  IV.  7. 


This  is  only  one  of  the  expressions  found  abundantly  in  the  New 
Testament,  which  describe  the  Chi-istian's  experience  in  the  most  at- 
tractive language,  and  contribute  to  it  elements  which  ai'e  not  practi- 
cally to  be  found  in  the  ordinary  Christian  life.  Such  language  as  this 
stu's  the  imagination.  It  attracts  our  desire  vehemently.  But  it  sel- 
dom is  answered  in  any  development  or  experience  in  practical  life. 

If  by  "peace  is  meant  simply  a  negation  of  painful  excitement, 
almost  all  dull  and  phlegmatic  natures  have  that ;  but  surely,  this  is 
not  what  is  meant.  Is  there  no  peace  for  acute  vitality  ?  Is  there  no 
peace  for  strong  and  active  natures'?  Is  there  no  peace  for  men  and 
women  through  whose  bosoms  roll  tides  of  passionate  emotion  ?  la 
peace  only  a  gentle  fatigue,  or  soul-sleep,  after  a  stormy  life  %  Is  it 
ashes  when  the  flame  is  burned  out  ?  Or,  is  there  a  quality  of  peace 
which  goes  along  with  energy ;  with  overflowing  fullness  of  emotion  ; 
with  acute  sensibility  ;  with  great  energy  and  power  %  Is  disturbance 
the  result  of  not  knowing  how  to  use  our  superior  feeling  and  faculty  % 
And  is  there  a  divine  influence  and  a  divine  schooling  that  shall  so 
teach  men  how  to  use  all  their  nobler  powers  that  they  shall  come  into 
a  perfect  harmony,  and  cease  to  be  exhausting  or  rasjiing,  and  become 
peaceful  ?     This  latter,  without  doubt. 

If  that  be  so,  what  becomes  of  the  practical  experience  of  Christian 
men,  and  even  ot  very  good  Christian  men  %  How  many  of  you  can 
claim  that  this  experience  has  ever  been  yours,  and  that  you  have  had 
that  "peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding?" 

Joy  is  another  thing.  That  may  spring  from  single  faculties,  and 
fi"om  very  imperfect  ones.  It  belongs  to  a  lower  state.  There  is  a 
joy — for  that  is  the  term  by  which  we  signify  constitutional  pleasure 
— arising  from  the  exercise  of  any  one  of  our  appetites  or  passions. 
He  that  eats  pleasant  food  has  joy  of  taste.  He  that  listens  to  pleasant 
sounds  has  joy  of  hearing.  He  that  looks  upon  pleasant  things  has 
joy  of  sight.     He  that  has  a  lower  form  of  aflection  has  joy.     Joy  is 

Si-NDAT  MouNiXG,  Jan.  16,  1870.  Lesson  :  Phil.  H.  Hymns  (riymouth  Collection)  ^N'os. 
286,  818.  1259. 


298  TEE  PEACE  OF  QOD. 

merely  the  pleasui-e  which  any  faculty  derives  from  its  constitutional 
action  ;  and  it  may  exist  in  very  great  rudeness  and  very  great  imper- 
fection. 

Men  are  so  little  addicted  to  the  finer  shades  of  religious  experience, 
that  frequently  they  do  not  discriminate  between  mere  excitement  and 
joy,  and  almost  never  between  peace  and  joy,  although  peace  is  trans- 
cendently  higher  than  anything  that  we  are  accustomed  to  understand 
by  joy. 

We  shall  best  compass  our  end  in  explaining  this  matter,  by  taking 
a  view  of  the  conditions  of  Christian  experience  as  they  exist  in  God's 
providence  in  this  life,  and  as  they  are  recognized  in  the  New  Testa^ 
ment. 

It  is  clearly  taught  that  there  is  a  very  long  gradation  in  Christian 
experience — that  no  man  becomes  a  whole  Christian  all  at  once,  by  a 
mn-acle  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  No  man  is  born  into  the  kingdom  of  God  full  • 
fledged,  full-songed,  victorious.  We  are  born  into  God's  kingdom  little 
children.  We  have  to  go  through  a  process  of  development  and  edu- 
cation in  religious  things,  as  little  children  in  this  natural  life  are  obliged 
to  go  thi'ough  successive  stages  of  education  and  development.  Chris- 
tians are,  therefore,  widely  separated  from  each  other  in  quantity  and 
quality  of  moral  excellence  and  of  experience.  We  find  in  the  New 
Testament  the  distinct  recognition  of  babes.  Some  are  children.  Some 
always  will  be.  We  find  the  apostle  making  exj^ress  provision  for  the 
toeak,  as  if  they  were  to  remain  weak.  Some  men  are  always  in  strag- 
gle. Some  have  alternations  of  peace  and  disturbance.  Some  have  a 
continuous  flow  of  peace  and  tranquil  joy. 

Now,  are  these  difierent  degrees  or  kinds  of  experience  mere  mat 
ters  of  chance  ?  No.  There  is  a  regular  process  or  gradation,  begin- 
ning with  moral  excitement  and  turbulence  at  the  earlier  j^eriod  of 
Christian  life,  and  progressing  toward  peace,  as  one  passes  through  the 
educatory  stages,  and  comes  into  the  higher  element  of  a  true  spiritual 
life. 

The  struggle  of  life  is  that  struggle  which  is  eminent  as  we  are 
overcoming  the  wisdom  of  the  body,  and  the  impulses  of  the  body,  and 
substituting  in  then*  stead  the  wisdom  of  the  spirit  and  the  control  of 
the  spii'it,  under  the  divine  influence. 

The  .practical  mistake  which  men  are  liable  to  commit,  therefore,  is 
the  ascription  to  every  part  of  Christian  life  of  the  experiences  which 
are  propei'ly  predicated  of  particular  parts  of  it.  No  man  can  have 
perfect  peace  at  the  beginning  ;  that  is,  unless  his  whole  previous  life  has 
been  in  some  sense  a  religious  and  Christian  discipline,  so  that  the  work 
which  ordinarily  takes  place  in  the  heart  in  conversion  has  by  God's 
gi'ace  been  in  part,  as  it  were,  carried  on  before — for  I  believe  that 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD.  299 

there  is  a  great  deal  of  Christian  life  which  is  provided  for  beforehand 
in  Christian  communities. 

If  a  man  were  just  born  into  school,  his  teacher  would  smile  at 
him  if,  Avhile  he  was  yet  floundering  in  his  Greek  verbs  and  roots,  he 
should  sa}^,  despondingly,  "  Oh,  sn  !  where  is  that  pleasure  of  learning 
that  you  talked  to  me  about  V  We  do  not  generally  find  the  pleasures 
of  learning  when  we  are  studying  the  grammar.  What  would  you 
think  of  a  little  child  that  should  expect  the  amenities  and  delights  of 
literature  when  learning  the  alphabet?  That  is  not  the  point  of  literary 
cultm-e  where  pleasure  comes  in. 

And  the  peace  which  comes  from  Christian  life  does  not  come  with 
the  alphabet.  That  is  not  the  point  at  which  to  look  for  it.  It  belongs 
to  Christian  experience,  but  it  belongs  to  a  later  stage.  It  is  one  of  the 
signs  of  ripeness,  but  not  of  blossoming.  That  peace  which  passes  all 
understanding  is  the  highest  and  the  most  secret  stage  of  experience. 
Once  reached,  and  the  soul  is  in  the  land  of  Beulah ;  and  from  the  de- 
lectable mountain  henceforth  it  will  look  over  upon  the  celestial  city  ; 
and  at  the  hush  of  evening  it  will  hear,  or  will  think  it  hears,  those 
voices  of  the  blest  which  rise  in  endless  warbles  over  the  city  of  God, 
and  of  which,  I  sometimes  think,  all  sweet  earthly  sounds  are  only  the 
echoes,  or,  as  it  were,  wandering  and  lost  sounds  which  have  di'opped 
down  through  the  tumult  of  this  lower  sphere,  confusedly,  and  yet  have 
not  quite  lost  their  sweetness. 

Let  us,  then,  look  at  some  of  the  qualities  of  the  soul's  highest  and 
latest  experiences  of  Chiistian  life.  Let  us  look,  in  other  words,  into 
that  secret  life  which  we  cannot  declare ;  which  is  unspeakable,  and 
yet  is  a  reality ;  toward  which  every  one  of  us  should  aim  ;  into  which 
some  of  us  have  by  this  time  begun  to  come  ;  and  into  which  all  may 
more  or  less  come. 

1.  As  by  discipline,  by  devotion,  by  a  holy  volition,  one  rises  into 
the  higher  realm  of  experiences,  it  will  be  found  that  his  pleasures  are 
less  and  less  derived  from  the  ordinary  and  material  sources  of  life. 
We  live  so  much  in  the  body,  and  by  it,  that  it  is  not  strange  that  in 
the  beginning  the  experiences  of  our  life  should  be  external ;  that  our 
earlier  experiences  should  be  so  largely  colored  by  physical  cu-cum- 
stanccs.  The  buoyancy  of  life,  the  joy  of  the  eye,  and  the  ear,  and  the 
hand,  the  sportive  enjoyments  and  animal  life  of  childhood,  are  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  instances  of  mere  material  enjoyments. 

I  do  not  undeiwalue  God's  goodness  as  shown  to  us  through  the 
flesh  because  I  say  that  this  is  the  lowest  form,  and  that  as  we  rise 
higher  we  shall  put  it  into  a  relatively  difi'erent  position.  A  growing 
sense  of  the  superiority  of  the  invisible  world  and  qualtiics ;  the  rising 
up  in  the  soul  of  a  distinction  between  thoughts  and  things,  between 


300  TEE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

qualities  and  substances  ;  and  the  gi'adual  learning  to  dei-ive  jileasure, 
not  from  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  we  possess,  but  from  the 
abundance  of  the  moral  elements  which  we  possess — this  is  one  of  the 
early  and  unequivocal  signs  of  a  truly  spiritual  development. 

To  reach  this  state,  the  imagination  must  of  course  have  been  cul- 
tivated, so  as  vividly  to  keep  the  invisible  in  suggestion.  No  man 
that  is  without  imagination  can  rise  to  the  highest  forms  of  Christian 
life,  because  we  have  to  forget  the  visible ;  and  by  the  power  of  some 
faculty  in  us,  we  are  to  live  as  in  the  jiresence  of  the  unseen.  That  is 
the  very  function  of  the  imagination ;  and  I  think  those  parents  wrong 
theu'  children  who  in  early  life  bring  them  up  to  be  so  practical  and 
matter-of-foct  that  they  deny  all  culture  of  the  imagination.  Childhood 
is  full  of  this  quality,  and  it  is  not  to  be  restrained,  although  it  is  to  be 
educated  and  directed.  But  childi-en,  although  they  are  not  likely,  in 
our  day,  to  be  bewitched  by  fairy  tales,  nor  by  fables,  nor  by  fictions 
or  stories,  are  being  prepared  by  these  very  imaginary  disciplines  which 
they  receive  in  their  early  literature,  for  that  higher  function  of  the 
imagination  which  becomes,  in  alliance  with  moral  qualities,  what  the 
Bible  means  by  faith.  For,  "  faith  is  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen," 
Faith  is  that  power  of  the  mind  by  which  it  makes  real  to  itself  some- 
thing that  is  not  sensuous  and  material.  It  is  the  power  of  conceiving 
by  the  mind  things  that  are  invisible  to  the  body.  As  a  man  grows  in 
Christian  life,  and  grows  in  that  part  of  Christian  life  which  is  to  make 
him  depend  more  upon  invisible  than  on  visible  things,  this  element 
must  come  to  his  help — the  power  of  imagination,  by  which  we  con- 
ceive and  make  things  real  that  are  but  conceptions — that  have  no 
visible  form. 

Men  are  less  dependent  for  happiness,  in  this  condition,  upon  wealth ; 
upon  certain  positions  in  society  ;  upon  power  and  victory  ;  upon 
rivahy,  and  its  successes.  In  other  words,  as  men  learn  to  derive  more 
of  their  enjoyment  from  their  own  inward  selves,  and  from  the  higher 
forms  of  spiritual  association,  they  are  not  so  dependent  upon  their 
outward  conditions  as  they  were  before  for  happiness.  They  can  be 
happier,  perhaps,  with  outward  things,  in  a  fitting  way ;  but  they  can 
be  happy  without  them  ;  and  they  learn  more  and  more  to  be  hapjjy 
without  them.     But  this  does  not  imply  any  contempt  for  these  things. 

When  a  man  first  begins  to  write,  his  book  is  ruled,  because  he 
does  not  know  how.  lie  runs  his  letters  along  on  the  penciled  line, 
which  he  afterward  rubs  out — or  tries  to.  And  when  men  first  begin  in 
life,  God,  as  it  Avere,  i-ules  their  path  by  physical  things ;  but  as  they 
learn  to  live  by  something  higher,  the  lines  are  rubbed  out,  or  taken 
away,  and  they  learn  to  live  without  any  such  basis  for  their  letters. 

It  is  true  that  society  has  in  it  all  sorts  of  rude  and  undeveloped 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOB.  301 

people.  Society  requires  wealth.  It  requii-es  that  there  should  be  ten 
thousand  things  for  the  senses.  And  men  live  sensuously,  and  live 
riglit  while  they  are  living  sensuously.  But  it  is  a  lower  form  of  life 
that  they  are  living.  And  just  in  proportion  as  men  rise  higher  and 
higher  in  the  Christian  development,  they  are  less  and  less  dependent 
upon  their  physical  conditions  for  then*  enjoyment.  They  do  not  revile 
them.  It  is  not  the  old  cynical  spirit.  It  is  not  deriding  the  body  and 
the  flesh.  It  is  simply  the  recognition  that  material  experiences  and 
enjoyments  are  wise  and  beneficial  for  the  lower  forms  of  life,  but  that 
every  man  ought,  by  theu'  very  use,  to  have  risen  so  high  as  to  open 
for  himself  yet  higher  ones,  that  are  not  dependent  upon  the  mutations 
of  physical  things. 

2.  But — paradoxical  as  it  may  seem — when  one  has  reached  this 
state  in  which  he  begins  to  have  a  power  of  enjoyment  and  a  power  of 
peace,  independent  of  his  relationship,  he  has  a  more  exquisite  enjoy- 
ment of  material  things  than  he  ever  had  before.  No  man  is  prepared 
to  have  anything  in  the  Christian  sense  of  the  term,  who  is  not  pre- 
pared to  lose  it  and  to  do  without  it.  The  moment  a  man  can  say, 
"Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done,"  it  is  safe  to  trust  him  with  his  own 
will ;  but  just  so  long  as  a  man  is  not  willing  to  submit  to  a  higher 
will,  it  is  not  safe  to  trust  him  with  his  own.  In  other  words,  the 
higher  spiritual  states  of  the  mind  are  more  exquisitely  susceptible  to 
pleasures  of  rightful  physical  joy,  than  are  the  physical  attributes  them- 
selves by  which  we  first  comprehend  those  joys.  Let  a  man  look  upon 
this  material  world,  and  all  its  resources  of  pleasure,  with  a  purely 
material  eye,  and  he  cannot  derive  from  it  such  enjoyment  as  a  man 
who  looks  at  it  through  the  spuitual  and  poetic  elements.  These 
higher  faculties  are  susceptible  of  deriving  a  pleasure  from  the  material 
globe  Avhich  the  lower  and  purely  sensuoiJS  faculties  cannot  get  out 
of  it. 

Society,  and  all  its  innocent  gayeties,  which  belong  to  us,  are  more 
pleasurable  when  we  have  learned  to  get  along  without  them,  than  they 
were  when  they  were  indispensable  to  us.  There  are  persons  hei-e  that 
know  this  is  true.  There  are  those  present  who  remember  how  in 
thcu"  early  access  to  society,  then-  puiturbed,  glowing,  unruled,  youthful 
impulses,  shot  out  with  a  certain  wild,  rank  impunity,  and  would  not 
be  controlled.  But  you  have  outlived  that.  You  have  come  to  that 
state  in  which  society  is  not  so  indispensable  to  you.  And  yet,  you 
are  able  to  bear  witness  that  though  now  you  can  get  along  without  it, 
when  it  pleases  the  providence  of  God  to  put  you  into  it,  you  are  con- 
scious that  you  are  deriving  from  it  a  pleasure  that  you  did  not  have 
when  you  were  made  Avcll-nigh  insane  by  it.  Psychologically  inter- 
preted it  is  this :  That  when  we  first  come  into  society,  and  its  pleasures, 


302  TEE  PEACE  OF  QOD. 

"we  come  iuto  them  by  our  lower  faculties ;  whereas,  when  we  havp 
gone  on,  and  developed  a  higher  range  of  life,  if  we  retm-n  to  society, 
with  our  higher  faculties  developed,  while  we  are  freer,  and  whUe  we 
dominate  our  social  conditions,  they  are  capable  of  expressing  from 
society  a  wine  that  is  purer  and  more  joyous  than  that  which  comes 
from  the  earlier  and  lower  sentient  enjoyment.  So  that  a  man  has  this 
anomoly  in  his  own  experience :  that  he  cares  less  for  society,  and  is 
made  a  gi'eat  deal  happier  by  it  than  he  used  to  be. 

Property  is  not  enjoyed  in  the  eagerness  of  getting  it,  and  in  the  early 
stages  of  it,  as  it  is  when  one  has  risen  above  it,  and  is  willing  to  lose 
it.  There  are  those  here  who  will  understand  this,  too :  that  when  the 
first  wUd  fling  of  adventure  was  in  them ;  when  they  were,  so  to  speak, 
explorers,  without  experience ;  when  they  felt  the  eagerness,  the  intense 
gratification,  of  the  first  success,  and  the  joy  of  ever-opening  ambition  by 
which  they  foresaw  what  they  were  to  be  by-and  by,  they  were  not  so 
happy  as  afterwards,  when  they  had  acquu-ed  wealth,  and  had  proved 
it,  and  were  more  temperate  and  calm.  If  they  are  somewhat  disap- 
pointed in  the  power  of  wealth  to  make  them  happy,  there  is  yet  an 
element  of  satisfaction  that  remains.  They  now  look  upon  it  in  the 
light  of  the  higher  feelings  and  the  better  reason,  and  see  what  it  can, 
and  what  it  cannot  do.  And  they  will  bear  testimony  that  though 
they  value  it  less,  it  makes  them  more  happy.  Just  in  proj^ortion  as 
they  let  go  of  it ;  in  proportion  as  they  compel  then-  lower  instincts  not 
to  idolize  it ;  in  proportion  as  they  look  down  upon  it  as  rational  be- 
ings, from  a  higher  moral  standj)oint — just  in  that  proportion  it  is  able 
to  give  them  a  more  exquisite  enjoyment.  So  men  are  not  fit  to  have 
property  till  they  are  ripe  enough  not  to  care  whether  they  have  it  or 
not — that  is,  until  they  cease  to  care  intensely  for  it. 

It  is  the  same  with  friendship.  So  long  as  we  are  idolators  in  the 
temple  of  love,  we  are  unfit  to  worship.  When  we  have  gone  so  far 
up  that  we  have  made  God  supreme,  and  have  put  in  his  hands  our 
dearest  friends,  and  have  been  able  to  say  in  regard  to  that  which  is 
nearest  to  us,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  it  may  cost  us  a  struggle  to  say  it, 
but  we  shall  find  that  they  are  more  to  us  than  they  were  before. 
When  the  mother  has  lifted  her  child  up,  and  has  at  last  said  to  God, 
"  Take  it ;  thy  will  be  done,"  God  gives  it  back  to  her,  and  it  is  safe^ 
for  her  to  hold  it  now.  She  loves  it  more  than  she  ever  did,  because 
she  is  conscious  that  she  loves  it  with  the  higher  nature.  It  is  a  finer 
love  that  she  experiences.  It  transcends  anything  that  she  ever  knew 
before. 

Oh !  in  how  many  places  has  Christian  faith  triumphed !  How 
many  mothers  have  stood  straggling  by  the  siJe  of  then-  children  that 
were  dying,  or  seemed  about  to  die,  and  gained  \  ictories !     When  they 


TEE  PEACE  OF  OOD.  303 

come  to  that  state  in  wliich  they  are  able  to  give  them  up,  they  are 
conscious  that  tliey  take  more  joy  in  them  than  they  did  before. 

And  as  it  is  witli  our  friendship,  so  it  is  with  every  point  by  which 
we  toucli  life.  When  we  first  begin  to  touch  life,  we  touch  it  by  the 
lower  and  intermediate  faculties.  And  it  is  a  lower  and  coarser  joy 
whicli  we  experience  under  such  circumstances.  But  when  we  have 
developed  ourselves  to  the  higher  spiritual  condition,  we  come  to  the 
same  thhigs  by  another  class  of  faculties.  "We  are  not  bound  by  them ; 
we  are  not  in  bondage  to  them ,  we  are  not  judged  by  them,  as  before ; 
and  yet,  we  derive  from  them  more  exquisite  pleasure.  But  they  ai'e 
more  allied  to  peace,  as  we  shall  see,  further  on. 

3.  This  higher  condition  of  spiritual  growth  brings  the  soul  into  a 
more  intense  realization  of  the  personality  of  God.  And  here  we  have 
another  paradox.  A  true  spiiitual  life  is  full  of  paradoxes.  Peace,  in- 
terpreted by  one  set  of  faculties,  and  on  one  side,  looks  one  way,  and 
interpreted  by  another  set  of  faculties,  and  on  the  other  side,  looks 
another  way.  And  both  ai-e  time.  At  the  same  time  that  the  higher 
spu-itual  life  gives  us  a  sense  of  the  personality  of  God,  it  gives  a  uni- 
versality to  him  which  fills  all  nature,  and  which  associates  the  divine 
presence  with  every  phenomenon  of  the  world.  The  first  stage  of  the 
knowledge  of  God  is,  as  it  were,  to  gather  him  in  from  immensity. 

When  the  mind  first  attempts  to  pray,  when  it  first  attempts  to  lift 
itself  up  to  a  conception  of  God,  it  complains  that  he  is  so  vast,  and  so 
vague,  and  so  universally  diffused,  that  the  heart  cannot  conceive,  nor 
the  hand,  as  it  were,  touch  him.  So  that  the  very  first  step  of  devel- 
opment in  the  du-ection  of  God  is,  if  I  may  so  say,  to  condense  into 
personalty  these  vague  and  immense  attributes — till  we  begin  to  have 
a  distinct  sense  of  personal  character. 

But  no  sooner  do  we  begin  to  have  this  distinct  sense  of  personal 
charactei',  than  there  begins  a  second  process — the  process  of  distribu- 
tion again,  by  which  that  which  has  become  personal  begins  to  be  pan- 
theistic :  not  pantheistic  in  the  bad  philosophic  sense,  but  pantheistic  in 
the  true  and  Chiistian  sense.  The  first  stage  of  growth  toward  God  is 
in  the  du-ection  of  personality  of  character  and  being ;  and  just  as  soon 
as  we  begin  to  feel  that,  just  so  soon  we  begin  to  feel,  also,  that  he  is 
the  God  of  the  whole  earth,  and  to  see  his  footsteps,  and  his  hand- 
marks,  and  the  tokens  of  his  genius,  eveiy  where. 

Fu'st,  the  child  learns  to  love  his  father  as  a  person  in  the  house- 
hold ;  but  as  he  grows  older  he  begins  to  see  his  father  in  the  hand- 
writing that  lies  on  the  secretary  ;  he  sees  him  in  the  chair  that  stands 
in  the  comer  ;  in  the  hat  and  coat  that  hang  on  the  nail ;  in  the  cane  ; 
in  the  garden  ;  all  through  the  house,  and  around  about  it — everywhere 
that  his  father  haa  thought  and  shown  his  taste,  and  performed  his 


304  TEE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

labor.  The  child  leams  to  see  his  father  wherever  he  goes,  in  what- 
ever his  father's  being  is  associated  with.  He  sees  him  in  eveiy  ele- 
ment which  is  the  outworking  of  his  thought  and  skill  and  power.  He 
sees  his  whole  personality. 

I  remember  veiy  well,  being  waked  up,  on  dreamy  moonlit  nights, 
by  the  whippoorwill.  Its  Avild,  strange  song  trumpeted  through  tho 
air,  and  I  was  seized  with  I  know  not  what  inspiration.  My  soul  ex- 
haled, and  I  quivered  with  a  kind  of  pleasant  terror.  I  would  fain 
have  called  out,  but  that  I  did  not  dare  to  hear  my  own  voice  in  the 
silence.  The  light  of  the  moon,  streaming  through  the  window  and 
filling  the  room,  brought  tears,  half  of  pleasure  and  half  of  terror, 
which  ran  down  my  cheeks.  Presently  I  heard  my  father  hem,  in  the 
adjoining  room ;  and  then  it  was  all  peace.  Just  that  simplest  inar- 
ticulate sound,  that  brought  quick  through  my  fancy  a  sense  of  my 
father's  presence,  dissipated  all  terror.  I  was  myself  again  in  an 
instant.  From  this  least  hint  and  sign  of  personality,  how  quick  the 
whole  person  came ! 

We  must  needs  have  a  clear,  clear  sense  of  God  real  and  personal, 
with  an  intellect,  with  moral  feelings,  with  a  will,  with  affections,  with 
a  nature  like  our  own — for  we  cannot  understand  anything  outside  of 
our  own  nature,  absolutely. 

When  once  we  have  attained  that  end,  the  next  higher  develop- 
ment of  the  mind  is  to  give  it  diffusion,  so  that  the  heavens,  now,  at 
last,  begin  to  declare  the  glory  of  a  God,  and  the  earth  to  show  his 
handiwork  to  us,  and  we  see  him  in  the  morning  and  evening,  in  eveiy 
season,  in  the  tree,  and  grass,  and  brook,  and  rock,  and  flowei",  in  the 
brute  creation,  and  in  all  the  develoj^ments  of  human  society.  Every- 
where, and  always,  there  is  this  sense  of  God  universally  present,  until 
at  last  we  come  to  that  stage  of  blessed  development  in  which  we  are 
no  longer  dependent  upon  times  and  seasons,  or  upon  places  of  wor- 
ship, as  at  the  beginning  we  were.  All  days  are  Sunday,  all  hours  are 
hours  of  worship,  and  all  places  are  temples,  to  us.  But  this  is  the 
later  stage  of  development,  and  is  not  to  be  presumed  upon  by  neo- 
phytes, beginners,  early  disciples.  As  the  result  of  culture  and  habit, 
and  the  use  of  spiiitual  influences,  we  come  into  a  state  in  which,  day 
and  night,  we  are  never  without  a  sense  of  our  Father's  presence.  We 
live  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  He  fulfills  to  us  the  promise,  "  I 
will  come  in  and  abide  with  you." 

When,  therefore,  one  class  of  men  in  society  seeing  how  disputes 
come  from  doctrines,  say,  "  Doctrines  are  good  for  nothing,"  I  say, 
"They  are  good  for  something."  When  men  say,  "Ecclesiastical 
governments  are  good  for  nothing,"  I  say,  "  They  are  good  for  some- 
thing,"   When  men  say,  "  Creeds  and  regulations  ai'e  good  for  noth- 


TEE  PEACE  OF  GOD,  305 

ing,"  I  Bay,  "  They  are  good  for  something."  They  are  all  good  for  the 
lower  stages  of  development.  And  as  society  is  going  up  continuous- 
ly, there  is  always  a  new  stratum  of  men  who  require  that  things  shall 
be  regulated  by  times,  and  seasons,  and  governments,  and  that  there 
shall  be  rules,  and  principles,  and  formulas  of  belief,  as  well  as  forms 
and  melhods  of  devotion.  But  as  these  are  for  the  earlier  stages  of 
develoi)ment,  a  man's  business  is  to  get  rid  of  them  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble, and  leave  them  behind,  by  so  growing  as  at  last  not  to  heed  them. 

"When  a  man  first  reads,  he  reads  with  his  finger — "  A-n-d,  and  ; 
t^h-a-t,  that ;"  and  he  ought  to  read  so  when  he  cannot  read  any  bet- 
ter.    But  ought  he  to  read  so  all  his  life  long  ? 

There  are  many  persons  that  write  prayers,  and  forms  of  public  wor- 
ship, and  say  that  it  helps.  I  say  that  it  helps,  too.  It  is  just  like 
reading  when  you  have  to  spell  out  the  words.  But  if  it  helps,  it  ought 
to  help  you  so  that  pretty  soon  you  will  not  need  it.  You  ought  not 
to  go  on  forever  and  forever  like  a  child  that  always  spells  his  words, 
and  never  learns  to  read.  You  should  "  read  out  loud  and  clear,"  as 
the  teachers  used  to  say. 

All  these  forms  of  doctrine,  organization  and  service,  are  real  in 
their  function  ;  they  are  indispensable  as  a  part  of  the  course  of  edu- 
cation ;  but  they  are  none  the  less  signs  of  a  lower  educr.tion,  and  of 
a  lower,  undeveloped  life  ;  and  it  is  none  the  less  true  that,  as  men  rise 
into  a  higher  knowledge  of  God,  and  into  a  better  use  of  their  higher 
moral  nature,  these  things  are  to  be  laid  aside.  As  the  child  lays  aside 
the  chair  or  the  walking  stool,  by  which  its  first  steps  have  been  helped, 
so  we  are  to  lay  aside  those  helps  which  were  designed  to  aid  us  in  the 
early  stages  of  oiir  Christian  life.  We  are,  as  the  apostle  directs,  to 
leave  first  principles,  and  the  laying  on  of  hands,  and  go  on  unto  per- 
fection. There  is  no  quarrel  between  these  things  and  the  higher  con- 
dition of  the  soul,  any  more  than  there  is  between  childhood  and  man- 
hood. Both  are  true.  Men  need  these  things  at  certain  stages,  and 
do  not  need  them  at  certain  other  stages. 

4.  With  this  process  of  development  will  always  come  another — 
one  througVi  which  we  develop  into  the  higher  moral  nature  by  the  dis- 
cipline of  God's  providence.  By  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
by  the  realization  in  us  of  the  power  of  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  Jesus, 
we  shall  find  that  we  are  going  in  one  uniform,  invariable  direction 
into  it.  You  never  will  see  a  person  going  into  the  higher  moral  state 
thi'ough  the  gate  of  any  sharp,  conscious,  malign  feeling,  which  it  utter- 
ly negates.  The  malign  feelings  are  mepbitic  gas  to  the  higher  nature. 
Show  me,  therefore,  a  saint,  that  is  truly  a  saint,  and  I  will  show  you 
a  saint  that  is  gently,  cheeifully,  mildly,  sweetly  a  saint.  In  other 
words,  as  fruit  is  very  sour  when  it  is  green,  so  ai'e  Clu'istians ;  and  as 


306  TEE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

fruit  wlien  it  ripens  is  sweet,  so  are  Christians.  All  true  religious 
gi'owtli  is  toward  sweetness.  Mildness  and  sweetness  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  ripeness.  If,  therefore,  you  find  that  one  is  more  stringent, 
more  sharp,  more  consciously  gi-eedy,  as  he  grows  in  Christian  life,  you 
may  be  sure  that  he  took  the  wrong  shoot.  He  is  not  growing  the 
right  way. 

There  are  a  great  many  men  who  are  like  one  of  my  roses.  I 
bought  a  Gloire  de  Dijon.  It  was  said  to  be  one  of  the  few  ever- 
blooming  roses.  It  w'as  grafted  on  a  manetti  stalk — a  kind  of  dog- 
rose,  a  rampant  and  enormous  grower,  and  a  very  good  stalk  to  graft 
fine  roses  on.  I  planted  it.  It  throve  the  fii'st  part  of  the  summer, 
and  the  last  part  of  the  summer  it  gi-ew  with  great  vigor ;  and  I  quite 
gloried,  when  the  next  spring  came,  in  my  Gloire  de  Dijon.  It  had 
wood  enough  to  make  twenty  such  roses  as  these  finer  varieties  usually 
have  ;  and  I  was  in  the  amplitude  of  triumph.  I  said,  "  My  soil  suits 
it  exactly  in  this  climate ;  and  I  will  write  an  article  for  the  Monthly 
Gardener^  and  tell  what  luck  I  have  had  with  it."  So  I  waited,  and 
waited,  and  waited  till  it  blossomed ;  and  behold !  it  was  one  of  those 
worthless,  quarter-of-a-dollar,  single-blossomed  roses.  And  when  I  came 
to  examine  it,  I  found  that  it  was  gi-afted,  and  that  there  was  a  little  bit 
of  a  graft  down  near  the  ground,  and  that  it  was  the  manetti  sprout 
that  had  grown  to  such  a  prodigious  size. 

Now,  I  have  seen  a  great  many  people  converted,  in  whom  the  con- 
version did  not  grow,  but  the  old  nature  did.  A  man  may  be  a  Chi'is- 
tian,  you  know,  in  a  spot ;  and  gi-owth  in  that  spot  should  be  such  aa 
to  keep  down  nature.  The  whole  power  of  the  root  should  be  thi-own 
into  the  new  scion,  which  should  make  the  stem  and  the  top.  If, 
therefore,  you  see  a  man  that  is  sharp,  and  full  of  thorns,  you  may  be 
sure  that  it  is  a  mannetti  stalk  that  is  growing,  and  not  a  Gloire  de  Di- 
jon— nor  a  Gloire  de  Jerusalem,  either !  It  is  nature,  and  not  grace. 
For  just  as  sm-e  as  God  is  love,  so  sure  they  that  are  his  children,  and 
that  are  growing  according  to  the  new  nature  in  Christ  Jesus,  ai'e  grow- 
ing toward  gentleness  and  sweetness,  and  easy-to-be-entreatedness. 
They  are  full  of  love,  and  the  fruits  of  love.  An  eminent  development 
in  gi'ace  is  an  eminent  development  toward  gentleness  and  sweetness 
and  agreeableness. 

You  cannot  help  loving  a  man  that  is  a  Christian  in  the  later  sta- 
ges. If  you  try,  you  cannot  help  it.  The  ear  might  as  well  say  that 
it  does  not  love  music,  or  the  eye  that  it  does  not  love  color,  or  the 
tongue  that  it  does  not  love  SAveet  flavors,  as  the  moral  consciousness 
of  men  say  that  it  does  not  love  that  which  is  intrinsically  sweet  and 
harmonious  and  beautiful,  when  it  sees  it  worked  out  in  the  highest  and 
best  forms. 


TEE  PEACE  OF  OOD.  307 

5.  The  progress  of  true  Christian  development  will  be  accompanied 
with  a  process  of  disinterestedness,  lowliness,  non-exactingness,  un- 
boastingness,  childlikeness,  and  simplicity.  I  do  not  say  that  you  are 
to  set  these  things  before  you,  and  aim  at  them  as  a  mark.  I  say  that 
the  natural  unfolding  of  a  man  that  is  growing  will  bring  him  to  them. 
There  will  be  a  consciousness  of  unworth. 

I  never  like  to  see  a  man  too  morbid  about  his  sins.  Neither  do  I 
like  to  see  a  man  Avho  does  not  think  he  has  any  sins.  The  true  un- 
folding of  grace  in  the  soul  fills  one,  to  be  sure,  with  a  sense  of  imper- 
fection, of  unwrought  nature,  and  of  sinfulness ;  but  if  God  has  been 
dwelling  with  a  man  for  a  score  of  years,  it  is  not  for  him  to  get  up 
and  speak  of  himself  as  having  never  had  such  a  royal  schoolmaster  in 
his  bosom.  It  is  no  compliment  to  divine  grace  for  a  man  who  has 
been  forty  years  in  the  church  to  get  up  and  say,  "  I  feel  as  though  I 
was  a  vile  and  filthy  rag."     He  is  a  vile  and  filthy  rag  to  say  that ! 

Paul  said,  "  Be  ye  followers  of  me.  Not  as  though  I  had  already 
attained.  This  one  thing  I  do  :  forgetting  those  things  which  are  be- 
hind, and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press  to- 
ward the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Je- 
sus." In  other  words,  "  As  far  as  I  am  a  follower  of  Christ,  be  ye 
followers  of  me."  Pie  gloried  that  in  many  things  he  did  begin  to  rep- 
resent Christ,  and  present  a  model  from  which  men  low  down  could  see 
God's  perfection  better  than  from  its  higher  siDuitual  amplitude  and 
beauty. 

A  man  is  not  to  be  morbidly,  and  certainly  not  conventionally,  a 
slanderer  of  himself;  for  if  he  is  truly  a  child  of  God  there  will  be  a 
thousand  things  in  which  he  will  know  it  and  feel  it,  and  in  which  other 
men  will  know  it  and  feel  it.  Nevertheless,  just  as  soon  as  a  man  be- 
gins to  know  it  too  much,  and  feel  it  too  much,  he  spoils  it  all.  Just 
as  soon  as  you  see  a  man  put  on  that  indescribable  look  of  conscious 
ele^'ation,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Thank  God  that  I  am  not  as  other  men 
are  ;"  as  soon  as  a  man  assumes  that  jjitying  and  patronizing  holiness 
which  you  sometimes  see  in  people  who  talk  to  you,  and  thank  God 
that  they  have  gained  such  eminence,  and  are  soriy  that  you  have  not; 
as  soon  as  a  man  looks  down  on  those  around  about  him  with  a  com- 
passionate concern,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  do  not  blame  you  for  not 
being  as  good  as  I  am — for  I  am  extraordinarily  good ;  but  I  pity  you 
that  you  are  not — as  soon  as  a  man  becomes  so  conscious  of  his  superi- 
ority as  to  manifest  that  consciousness  in  ways  like  those,  he  destroys 
that  beauty  of  the  Christian  life  which  he  might  otherwise  exhibit.  He 
is  given  to  spiritual  conceit ;  and  no  matter  how  much  you  discuss  it, 
no  matter  how  much  English  language  you  rub  over  it,  you  cannot 
make  anything  else  of  it.      Some  men  seem  to  think  that  if  they  use 


308  THE  PEACE  OF  OOD. 

enough  language,  that  will  change  moral  qualities.  They  seem  to 
thiuk  that  if  they  say  that  they  are  humble  often  enough,  people  will 
think  that  they  are  humble.  But  people  ai"e  not  deceived  in  any  such 
way. 

When  a  man  is  growing  in  grace,  he  will  have  his  faults  and  his 
follies ;  but,  after  all,  you  will  find  that  besides  growing  in  the  direction 
of  light  and  sweetness,  he  will  always  be  growing  in  the  direction  of 
simplicity,  and  childlikeness,  and  unfeigned  humility.  He  will  know 
where  he  is  strong;  and  if  you  dispute  him  he  will  fight  you,  per- 
haps; but  if  you  let  him  alone  he  will  also  know  where  he  is  weak, 
and  will  confess  his  weakness,  and  mourn  over  it  before  God.  But 
this  simplicity,  this  childlikeness,  this  humility,  is  one  of  the  character- 
istics of  the  later  stages  of  true  development  in  Christian  life. 

6.  This  higher  inward  life  will  be  marked  by  the  conversion  of  the 
voluntary  states  of  mind  into  involuntary  states,  m  greater  and  greater 
proportion.  We  hear  a  great  deal  about  the  will,  and  about  voluntariness 
in  the  service  of  God,  and  about  the  want  of  moral  quality  in  involun- 
tary states.  The  old  theologians  especially  used  to  discuss  this  subject. 
My  father,  and  all  those  that  were  around  about  him  did.  They  meant 
the  light  thing  when  they  were  discussing  it ;  but  their  discussion 
has  produced  a  secondary  efiect — that  of  impressing  men's  minds  with 
the  feeling  that  a  man  does  not  do  a  thing  perfectly  unless  he  does  it 
on  purpose,  and  knows  that  he  is  doing  it.  I  take  the  opposite  ground, 
and  say  that  a  man  does  nothing  perfectly  till  he  does  it  without  know- 
ing that  he  does  it.  It  is  a  universal  principle  that  no  man  does  a  thing 
well  till  he  has  converted  it  from  purposed  doing  to  unconscious  doing 
— in  other  words,  till  he  does  it  by  habit,  spontaneously,  rather  than  on 
purpose. 

Children  are  almost  always  graceful ;  but  the  moment  they  come  to 
be  neither  childi-en  nor  men,  hovering  half  way  between,  in  the  land 
of  awkwardness,  then  they  think,  "What  shall  I  do  with  my  hands 
when  I  go  into  the  parlor?"  And  the  moment  they  begin  to  think,  they 
do  not  know  how  to  do  anything.  They  think,  "How  shall  I  stand?" 
or  "How  shall  I  speak?"  And  the  moment  they  think  about  it,  and  do 
it  on  purpose,  how  instinctively  they  do  it  in  an  embarrassed  and  awk- 
ward manner !  But  after  they  have  become  wonted  to  society,  they 
never  think  about  these  things.  Then  they  full  back  and  resume  their 
childlike  gi-ace  and  propriety  of  conduct. 

If  every  time  a  man  does  a  sum,  he  has  to  do  it  by  the  most  pain- 
ful process  of  reasoning,  as  I  do  (for  if  I  add  six  and  seven,  I  have  to 
analyze  the  seven,  and  say,  "  Six  and  six  are  twelve,  and  one  is  thirteen,") 
he  performs  the  work  vtry  imperfectly.  But  how  is  it  with  an  account- 
ant in  a  bank  ?     Some  men  run  up  a  whole  page  of  columns  together. 


TEE  PEACE  OF  GOD.  309 

That  is  a  very  different  thing  from  making  a  study  of  it.  Hand  them 
a  roll  of  bills,  and  they  will  discover  whether  they  are  genuine  or  not, 
as  fast  as  they  can  run  them  over.  You  and  I  will  take  a  roll  of  bills 
and  examine  them  for  a  long  time,  and  finally  conclude  that  they  are 
good,  or  that  they  are  bad,  as  the  case  may  be ;  but  put  them  into  the 
hands  of  a  clerk  who  is  accustomed  to  handling  money,  and  see  how  he  will 
throw  them  out,  one  after  another,  into  twenty  piles,  keeping  in  his 
mind  the  location  of  the  banks — whether  they  are  Eastern  or  Western ; 
the  denomination ;  and  whether  the  bills  are  good  or  counterfeit.  If 
any  of  them  are  counterfeit  he  knows  it  without  looking  at  them.  He 
feels  it. 

An  old  gentleman,  who  died  not  a  great  while  ago,  who  used  to  at- 
tend church  here,  and  who  was  a  gold-telier  in  many  of  the  banks,  his 
business  being  to  count  gold,  told  me  he  could  take  piles  and  piles  of 
gold  on  a  counter,  and  throw  them  out  just  as  fast  as  he  could  make 
his  hand  go,  and  detect  any  counterfeit  pieces  that  there  might  be  among 
them.  He  knew  by  the  feeling  whether  they  were  full  weight,  whether 
they  were  genuine  metal,  and  whether  they  were  split  and  filled  with 
some  base  material.  He  could  discover  all  the  adulerations  that  rogues 
were  accustomed  to  practice  on  coins,  by  instinct.  He  was  educated 
to  it.  It  was  not  because  he  thought  about  doing  it  that  he  could  do  it ; 
he  did  it  without  volition. 

As  long  as  a  man  thinks  what  he  is  going  to  say,  he  cannot  be  a 
public  speaker.  His  speaking  must  get  ahead  of  him,  and  he  must 
go  on  behind  it,  and  find  out  what  he  has  said,  as  it  Avere.  Tliat  is  the 
sensation  that  he  has.  A  man  that  is  a  poet  is  to  be  caught  by  inspi- 
ration, and  carried  on.  And  no  man  is  more  surprised  than  the  man 
that  has  done  these  things,  to  think  that  he  has  done  them.  A  man  that 
is  working  in  the  higher  range  is  like  a  speaking-trumpet,  that  never 
speaks,  but  is  spoken  through.  That  is  the  feeling.  The  artist  that 
stops  and  looks  at  his  pallet,  and  says,  "  What  shall  I  put  there  ?  I  do 
not  know,"  has  mistaken  his  vocation.  A  true  artist  puts  the  right 
thing  there,  and  then  says,  "  I  wonder  why  I  did  it  ?"  He  is  first  led 
to  do  it,  and  then  he  analyzes  and  finds  out  the  reason. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  important  elements  of  moral  education.  No 
gi-ace  that  you  have  to  tug  and  pull  at  is  a  grace  that  you  yet  possess. 
If  a  man  wants  to  be  humble,  and  thinks  about  being  humble,  and 
tries  to  be  humble,  and  says,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  make  myself  hum- 
ble?" tbat  is  better  than  nothing;  but  he  is  on  the  lowest  form  in  the 
school.  He  is  an  abecedarian.  When  a  man  has  learned  to  be  hum- 
ble, he  is  humble  spontaneously,  and  before  he  knows  it.  If  a  man  is 
really  meek,  his  meekness  must  not  be  on  purpose.  A  man's  meekness 
must  leap  out  at  once.     He  must  have  had  such  practice  that  it  will 


310  THE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

come  without  any  volition  on  his  part.  And  so  of  generosity  ;  so  of 
forgiveness ;  so  of  that  deep,  unfolding  love  which  shall  spring  up 
from  generous  impulses,  and  from  forbearance,  and  from  goodness,  or 
from  the  nature  of  God,  which  overflows  heaven,  and  deluges  the  uni- 
verse itself  The  feeling  must  be  in  you  so  strong,  so  full,  so  continuous, 
that  it  takes  care  of  itself,  and  gushes  out  perpetually  in  every  direc- 
tion. And  you  are  in  this  secret,  higher  religious  state,  just  in  propor- 
tion as  you  are  involuntaiily  good,  in  distinction  from  being  purposely 
and  voluntarily  good. 

I  meant  to  speak  of  the  development  in  the  later  peiiod  of  life  of 
the  element  of  beauty,  and  to  show  how  closely  it  stands  connected 
with  moral  experience.  I  believe  that  all  physical  beauty  is  but  the 
faint  outworking  of  the  higher  fountain  of  beauty  which  has  essential 
beauty  of  idea  and  moral  quality.  This  is  one  of  the  unfaili:ig  develop- 
ments of  the  true  higher  life  in  its  later  stages. 

The  sun  may  be  more  powerful  at  mid-day,  when  the  light  is  white 
and  intense,  and  the  heat  pervades  all  things ;  but,  after  all,  for  beauty, 
give  me  the  sun  when  it  has  travelled  thi'ough  the  day,  and  has  fallen 
so  low  that  it  begins  to  look  aslant  through  the  trees,  and  cast  long 
shadows,  checkering  the  earth,  and  filling  the  heavens,  and  staining 
the  clouds,  and  surrounding  itself  with  magnificent  glory.  Then  the 
sun  is  most  beautiful. 

And  the  most  beautiful  thing  that  lives  on  this  earth  is  not  the 
child  in  the  cradle,  sweet  as  it  is.  It  is  not  ample  enough.  It  has  not 
had  history  enough.  It  is  all  prophecy.  Let  me  see  one  who  has 
wrought  through  life  ;  let  me  see  a  gi-eat  nature  that  has  gone  through 
sorrows,  through  fire,  through  the  flood,  through  the  thunder  of  battle, 
ripening,  sweetening,  enlarging,  and  growing  finer  and  finer,  and 
gentler  and  gentler,  that  fineness  and  gentleness  being  the  result  of 
great  strength  and  great  knowledge  accumulated  through  a  long  life — 
let  me  see  such  an  one  stand  at  the  end  of  life,  as  the  sun  stands  on  a 
summer  afternoon,  just  before  it  goes  down.  Is  there  anything  on 
earth  so  beautiful  as  a  rich,  ripe,  large,  glowing  and  glorious  Christian 
heart?     No,  nothing. 

My  dear  brethren,  it  is  toward  this  final  stage,  these  higher  develop- 
ments, that  every  one  of  us  should  set  his  whole  Christian  life.  Many 
of  you  are  young.  You  cannot  come  into  such  experiences  except 
through  intermediate  ones.  Do  not  be  discouraged  if  you  fail  to  have 
the  higher  joy,  the  higher  light,  the  higher  disclosures.  Never  forget, 
however,  that  you  are  on  your  way  toward  them. 

If  I  had  a  little  child  that  I  wished  to  inspire  with  a  love  of  horti- 

^  culture,  I  might  take  him  into  Cushing's  garden  near  Boston,  or  into 

any  of  the  green-houses  and  hot-houses  in  New  York,  just  to  raise  his 


THE  PEACE  OF  QOD.  311 

ideal  of  what  art  can  do  in  perfecting  flowers.  I  might  take  him  in 
just  to  show  him  some  of  the  most  perfectly  reared  roses,  and  gerani- 
ums, and  cinerarias,  or  any  of  the  other  fine  hot-house  flowers.  And 
I  might  give  him  a  little  patch  of  ground  to  cultivate  and  raise  flowei's 
on.  But  I  would  say  to  hira,  "You  must  not  expect  that  you  are  going 
to  raise  such  flowers  as  those  at  first.  You  have  everything  to  leara." 
I  would  encourage  him,  however,  summer  by  summer,  as  his  experi- 
ence increased,  to  improve  his  flowers,  and  make  them  finer  and  finer. 
And  by  and  by,  after  years  had  ripened  his  little  powers,  and  his  skill 
of  hand,  he  might  begin  to  vie,  in  some  single  flowers,  with  those 
"which  he  saw  in  the  green-houses.  But  not  for  years  afterwards  could 
he  take  a  green-house,  and  fill  its  shelves  all  around  so  that  every  single 
month  of  the  year  should  have  its  floral  triumph  by  reason  of  his  skill. 

You  are  all  gardeners,  and  are  just  planting  seeds.  Your  ambition 
is  toward  this  later  stage  of  development.  And  never  forget  that  it  is 
not  enough  for  you  just  to  have  been  born  again.  It  is  not  enough 
for  you  to  have  set  your  faces  toward  Jerusalem.  It  is  not  enough 
for  you  to  overcome  the  common  sins,  and  to  attain  the  common 
moralities.  A  great  growth,  a  noble  manhood,  lies  before  you. 
There  is  a  magnificent  experience  possible  to  every  one  of  you.  It  is 
not  possible  in  equal  degrees  to  all ;  but  in  some  degree  it  is  possible 
to  every  one  of  you.  There  is  not  a  soul  here  that  may  not  reach  this 
later  and  more  glorious  disclosure  of  divine  grace.  And  if  in  the  provi- 
dence of  God  some  of  you  seem  to  yourselves  to  be  hindered,  debarred ; 
if  some  of  you  seem  to  have  been  blown  off  the  coast,  by  the  dreaiy 
winds  ;  if  some  of  you,  as  it  were,  are  storm-beaten,  and  have  lost  yom* 
mast,  and  roll  as  if  to  founder  in  the  sea,  do  not  be  discouraged. 
*'  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom 
he  receiveth." 

I  have  known  fathers  who,  while  bringing  then*  sons  up  to  riches, 
•were  seemingly  cruel  to  them,  and  pushed  them  off.  As  the  lioness, 
when  she  would  wean  her  cubs,  pushes  them  off,  and  teaches  them  to 
be  lions  of  the  desert ;  so  a  wise  father  pushes  off  his  boy  from  servile 
dependence,  and  makes  him  take  care  of  himself,  and  almost  laughs  to 
see  him  wallowing  in  trouble,  and  says  to  himself,  "  I  am  sorry  ;  but, 
after  all,  that  is  the  way  to  make  a  man  of  him — and  I  want  to  make 
a  man  of  hira."  And  it  is  the  fiiilh  of  the  thing  which  is  coming  after 
the  soiTOW  that  makes  the  father  rejoice,  and  seem  so  emel  to  his  young 
cubs.     And  so  our  Heavenly  Father  says,  "  Whom  I  love  I  chasten." 

Wlien  you  are  disajjiiointed,  when  you  are  vexed,  when  you  are 
hedged  in,  when  you  are  thwarted,  when  you  are  seemingly  abandoned, 
remember,  son  of  God,  heir  of  heaven,  that  you  are  being  prepared  for 
this  higher  life.     You  need  com'age ;  and  that  is  the  way  to  have  it. 


312  TBE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

You  need  patience ;  and  that  is  the  way  to  achieve  it.  You  need  per- 
sevo)-ence,  and  that  is  the  way  to  develop  it.  You  need  faith,  and  you 
never  will  have  it  unless  you  are  brought  to  circumstances  in  which 
you  are  bound  to  act  by  the  invisible  rather  than  by  the  visible.  You 
need  those  Christian  graces  of  which  the  Bible  speaks,  and  of  which 
the  pulpit  preaches  ;  and  practical  life,  with  its  various  vicissitudes,  is 
God's  school  in  which  you  are  to  acquire  these  things. 

Do  not  be  discouraged,  then,  nor  cast  down.  When  you  are  be- 
stead, remember  that  God  is  dealing  with  you  as  a  good  schoolmaster. 
Though  he  be  a  severe  one,  you  will  thank  him  for  his  severity  by- 
and-by. 

Old  men,  tell  this  to  young  men.  Tell  them  that  you  are  more 
thankful  to  God  for  ihe  memory  of  past  sufferings,  than  for  the  mem- 
ory of  past  joys.  The  laughter  of  youth — what  did  that  do  to  you  ? 
The  gayities  of  your  early  days — what  did  they  do  to  you  ?  They 
were  like  gleams  of  the  summer  sun  which,  falling  upon  the  broken 
surfiice  of  water,  flash  beauty.  They  did  nothing.  They  reared  noth- 
ing. They  ripened  nothing.  .  It  was  those  hard  grinding  periods  and 
passages  of  experience  that  brought  you  out  at  last,  it  may  be  with  a 
slender  victory,  but  yet  undefeated.  Those  are  the  things  that  you 
look  back  upon  and  say,  "It  was  a  hard  time,  but  it  did  me  good." 
Did  you  good?  Yes,  it  did  you  good  in  just  that  point  where  no  man 
can  afford  to  be  poor — in  your  manhood.  It  saved  you  just  where  if 
you  are  bankrupt,  you  are  bankrupt  forever  and  forever — in  your  heai*t 
and  conscience. 

Therefore,  when  God  is  dealing  with  you  in  the  cradle  and  in  the 
crib,  in  the  chest  and  in  the  till,  in  ambitions  and  in  strifes,  do  not  ac- 
cuse him.  Do  not  cry  out,  "  Why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  Remem- 
ber that  to  those  who  are  exercised  thereby,  God  shows  his  love  and 
his  fatherhood.  Bow  yourselves  meekly  to  the  chastisements  of  God, 
and  see  to  it,  not  that  you  can  get  away  from  trouble,  but  that  you  can 
rise  above  trouble,  by  being  made  better  by  it. 

Very  soon,  very  soon,  dear  Christian  brethren,  we  shall  come  to- 
gether where  you  and  I  will  know  the  truth  of  what  I  have  been 
preaching  this  morning. 

When  a  man  is  once  across  the  sea,  and  in  this  free  land,  it  matters 
not  whether  he  came  in  a  stately  steamship,  or  in  a  fine  packet-ship, 
sailing  many  more  days,  or  in  the  poorest  tub  that  ever  weathered  the 
ocean.  On  the  way  over  it  makes  a  good  deal  of  difference ;  but  when 
he  is  once  here,  it  does  not  matter. 

Now,  we  are  all  sailing  across  the  sea  of  life,  in  different  vessels. 
Some  of  them  leak,  some  of  them  are  slow,  some  of  them  are  very  fine 
and  stately,  some  of  them  have  cruel  captains,  and  some  of  them  have 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD.  313 

good  captains ;  but  when  once  we  get  our  feet  on  the  shore  of  the 
New  Jerusalem,  we  shall  not  care  what  took  us  over  there,  nor  what 
our  fear  was  on  the  way. 

See  to  it,  then,  that  you  reach  the  heavenly  city.  See  to  it  that 
God  is  your  God.  See  to  it  that  you  have  a  child's  right.  Of  all  the 
trumpets  that  you  can  lift  up  at  the  heavenly  gate,  there  is  but  one  that 
will  let  you  in.  Clow  the  trumpet,  if  you  will,  of  your  own  good 
deeds,  and  there  is  not  an  angel  in  all  the  heaven  that  will  know  the 
sound.  Let  pride  speak,  or  sj^eak  through  youi'  vanity,  and  you  will 
fail  to  summon  a  messenger  to  the  heavenly  gate.  But  blow  the  trum- 
pet of  love,  and  its  first  lisping  sound  will  quickly  roll  back  the  bolt, 
and  lift  the  latch,  and  open  the  heavenly  gate,  and  you  shall  come  in 
with  a  child's  welcome,  and  find  your  Father's  house,  and  your  heait's 
delight.  Learn  this  love,  and  rise  to  this  home,  thi'ough  Jesus  Chi'ist 
our  Kedeemer.     Amen. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  desire  to  render  thee  thanks,  our  heavenly  Father,  for  all  the  mercies  which 
thou  hast  extended  to  us — mercies  of  the  seasons,  aud  mercies  of  thy  providence  in  life 
for  the  household;  for  ail  the  processes  of  life  by  which  we  have  learned  to  think  and 
to  act;  by  which  we  have  been  disciplined  to  patience,  to  foresight,  to  prudence,  and 
to  patient  endeavor  under  discouraj^ereent.  We  thank  thee  for  all  the  instruction  of 
the  sanctuary.  We  thank  thee  that  we  understand  the  meaning  of  things  that  are  done 
■without;  that  we  are  made  to  perceive  how  all  things  are  working  together  in  thy  provi- 
dence for  spiritual  results.  We  thank  thee,  above  all,  for  that  ministration  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  that  inward  working  of  divine  light  and  lire,  by  which  we  have  been  able  to 
lift  ourselves  above  the  knowledge  of  the  senses,  and  of  material  things.  We  thank 
thee  that  wo  are  inspired  even  beyond  the  reach  of  the  following  thought  and  reason, 
and  that  there  are  sacred  impressions  which  thou  dost  work  upon  us,  which  abide,  which 
we  believe  and  know  to  be  true,  which  lift  us  above  all  things  that  are  Ion  and  base  and 
ignoble,  and  which  drive  our  whole  life  upward  toward  thine.  Wo  thank  thee  for  this 
watchful  guardianship,  and  this  loving  care,  and  that  thou  hast  ministered  it  to  so 
many  of  us  consciously;  and  to  so  many  more  of  us,  though  we  are  unconscious  of  it. 
None  of  us  know  all  thy  soveiign  care,  and  all  the  particulars  of  thy  infinite  and  unceas- 
ii'P  love.  Nor  shall  we  know  it  till  wo  behold  toeo  as  thou  art,  and  see  with  something 
of  thine  omniscience.  But  we  rejoice  in  what  we  know,  and  desire  to  derive  therefrom 
arguments  of  faith  and  trust  for  all  the  time  to  come.  Since  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  thee,  why  should  we  give  way  to  murmuring  ? 
Why  should  we  be  sodden  with  anxiety?  Why  should  we  look  out  darkly  from  to-day 
into  to-morrow?  May  we  behold  all  the  time  that  is  yet  to  come  as  under  thy  Fatherly 
care.  Grant  that  we  may  have  faith  to  trust  thee;  to  lean  our  outward  welfare,  and 
also  our  whole  spiritual  life,  upon  thee.  We  thank  thee  that  thou  art  preparing  us  for 
resurrection  into  a  nobler  sphere.  We  desire  to  be  more  and  more  anxious  for  that 
other  condition  and  for  those  ulterior  riches.  We  desire  not  to  be  unmindful  of  the 
state  that  we  are  now  in,  and  of  the  things  which  belong  to  this  life.  But  in  them  we 
wish  that  we  might  see  prophecies  of  thy  better  kingdom,  and  of  our  nobler  character 
whea  we  shall  be  kings  aud  priests  unto  God.    Grant  that  the  other  light  may  break 


314  THE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 

through,  and  that  we  may  discern  it  in  this  mortal  sphere.  O  let  ns  hear  the  sounds 
that  are  uttered  in  the  heavenly  land.  Let  us  feel  wafted  upon  us  the  influences  that 
there  roll  as  the  atmosphere  rolls  here. 

O  bring  to  us  a  sense  of  God's  infinite  love.  Bring  to  us  a  sense  of  that  divine 
fellowship  in  which  all  noble  souls  move  together.  Bring  to  us  a  sense  of  that  harmony 
and  of  the  grandeur  of  that  friendship  and  love  which  they  have  who  have  passed 
through  the  flood  and  through  the  fire,  and  are  prepared,  spirits  of  Just  men  made  per- 
fect, to  enter  upon  the  glory  of  the  heavenly  sphere.  And  may  we  long  for  that  man- 
hood which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  May  we  lie  upon  the  bosom  of  thy  promises,  waiting 
for  their  fulfillment  in  us. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  understand  that  all  thy  dealing  with  us 
from  day  to  day,  is  a  part  of  this  work;  and  may  wo  be  workers  together  with  God, 
working  out  our  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  knowing  that  it  is  God  which 
worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure. 

Grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  the  families  of  this  church  and  society.  Grant 
that  all  that  are  accustomed  to  sit  here  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  may  have  the  blessing 
of  the  sanctuary  abiding  upon  them.  Hence  may  they  bear  sacred  fire  to  kindle  the 
flame  of  devotion  at  home.  Hence  may  they  bear  light.  Here  may  they  derive  peace. 
Here  may  the  storehouse  of  divine  bounty  feed  them.  Here  may  they  clothe  themselves 
with  raiment  from  above.  Here,  every  Sabbath  day,  may  thy  servants  be  able  to  equip 
themselves  and  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  that  they  may  go  forth  more  truthful, 
more  gentle,  more  gracious,  more  loving,  more  faithful,  more  earnest,  more  full  of  wis- 
dom that  belongs  to  this  life,  and  more  full  of  that  higher  wisdom  which  belongs  to  the 
life  to  come. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  be  near  to  those  who  are  sick,  and  to  all  who  are 
in  suffering,  and  to  all  who  are  under  the  cloud  from  any  cause.  And  grant,  O  Lord  our 
God !  that  they  may  discern  thy  presence  very  near  to  them.  If  there  are  any  that 
mourn  the  loss  of  dearly  beloved  ones,  wilt  thou  comfort  them.  "Wilt  thou  uphold  their 
hearts,  and  give  to  them  such  comforting  thoughts  that  their  souls  shall  know  that  the 
Lord  thinks  of  them,  and  that  he  sympathizes  with  them. 

Prepare  us  for  any  events  that  lie  undisclosed  to  view.  May  wo  be  found  in  every 
emergency  equal  to  the  exigency.  May  we  have  such  strength  ministered  from  on  high 
that  nothing  shall  surprise  us,  and  nothing  shall  overcome  us.  And  may  we  write  as 
our  daily  experience,  even  in  the  midst  of  tumult  and  trouble.  Cast  down  but  not 
destroyed. 

So  may  we  live  by  thy  strength,  so  in  thy  strength  may  we  be  able  through  weak- 
ness to  die  triumphantly,  and  so  by  thy  strength  may  we  rise  gloriously  in  the  resurrec- 
tion morning  to  be  forever  with  the  Lord. 

And  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Spirit,  shall  bo  the  praise  evermore.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  Father  wilt  thou  bless  the  word  which  has  been  spoken.  Wilt  thou  grant  that 
we  may  be  made  wiser  by  thy  truth,  and  by  thy  providence,  and  by  thy  grace  through 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Grant  that  we  may  understand  thee.  And  understanding  thee,  may 
we  understand  thy  daily  work  with  us— the  whole  meaning  of  life,  and  all  the  processes 
by  which  it  is  unfolded  and  made  into  a  perfect  manhood  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Wilt  thou  go  with  us  when  we  shall  have  sung  again  to  thy  praise.  Go  with  us 
through  life.  Be  with  us  in  dyiug.  Let  us  be  with  thee  in  immortality.  And  unto  the 
Father  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  shall  bo  praises,  evermore.    AiMn. 


XX. 

Coming  to  One's  Self. 


INVOCATION. 

Command  thy  blessing,  our  Father,  to  rest  upon  us — even  thine  own 
Spirit,  which  brings  life,  and  light,  and  joy,  and  comfort,  and  all  guidance. 
May  we  arouse  ourselves,  and  rise  up  into  a  consciousness  of  thy  presence ; 
and  may  all  our  nature  partake  of  the  divine  influence  this  day.  Bless  us 
in  our  endeavors  to  instruct.  Bless  us  in  our  aspiration  and  devotion  ;  in 
our  meditations ;  in  all  the  service  of  prayer  and  of  song,  of  confession  and 
of  thanksgiving.  And  grant  that  there  may  be  not  only  a  blessing  of  the 
sanctuary,  but  a  blessing  of  the  day,  that  wherever  we  go,  and  wherever  we 
are,  we  may  still  be  as  in  the  temple  of  God,  and  with  thy  smile  resting 
abundantly  upon  us.     "Which  we  ask  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 


'And  when  he  came  to  himself."— Luke  XV.  17. 


From  the  exquisite  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  I  have  selected 
this  fragment,  because  it  is  like  an  orifice  opened,  through  which  you 
see  some  of  the  profoundest  operations  of  the  human  heart. 

Consider  the  history  that  this  fable  or  parable  details,  and  the  point 
at  which  this  utterance  was  made.  The  young  man  had  claimed  his 
full  liberty,  and  the  means  of  conducting  life  according  to  his  own  no- 
tion. He  declared  himself  free,  and  went  off  from  his  father,  bearing 
wdth  him  such  portion  of  the  estate  as  belonged  to  him,  or  would 
belong  to  him,  in  order  that  he  might  live  according  to  his  own  de- 
su-e.  He  did  conduct  his  life  according  to  his  own  desire.  He  went 
through  a  brilliant  career,  as  it  is  often  styled ;  that  is,  a  career  in 
which  every  passion  was  made  to  scintillate,  and  flash  light  andwarmth. 
The  career  worked  itself  out  to  the  very  dregs,  showing  both  parts  of 
itself — its  beginning  and  its  termination.  At  the  last,  poverty,  beg- 
gary, degradation,  hunger,  and  finally  despair,  took  the  place  of  wild 
intoxication  and  lawless  pleasure ;  and  then  he  was  as  Avretched  as 
before  he  had  been  happy. 

The  implication  is,  that  in  this  whole  career — the  breaking  away 
fi'om  his  father's  hoiise ;  the  going  into  disallowed  society ;  the  pursuing 
of  courses  that  violated  every  principle  of  morality  and  of  honor, — he 
had  not  acted  in  accordance  with  his  true  nature.  He  had  abandoned 
himself  He  had  left  his  manhood  somewhere  behind.  There  was 
something  that  had  been  left  out,  or  forsaken.  And  when  his  wretch- 
edness had  humbled  him,  so  that  he  clearly  saw  his  course  in  its  true 
light,  and  began  to  change  it,  or  to  purpose  to  change  it,  it  is  said 
that  he  began  to  come  to  himself.  He  came  to  himself,  though  it  were 
but  for  a  moment. 

We  may  intci-prct  this  as  we  use  the  term  familiarly,  as  where  a 
man  is  out  of  his  head,  out  of  his  mind,  and  we  say  when  his  reason  is 
restored  that  he  has  come  to  him,self  again.     Or,  when  a  man  comes 

Sunday  Mokning,  Jan.  23,  1870.    Lesson:  Col.  KI,   Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection)  Nos. 

255, 845,  eca 


316  COMINO  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

out  of  a  STOon,  he  is  said  to  come  to  himself,  by  which  is  meant,  sim- 
ply, that  he  comes  to  the  possession  and  use  of  faculties  that  for  a  time 
were  clouded,  or  hindered  in  their  operation. 

You  may  also  use  it  in  a  broader  sense ;  and  it  is  thus  that  I  pi'opose 
to  use  it.  It  may  be  made  to  throw  much  light  on  the  course  which 
men  are  pursuing  at  large — even  those  who  do  not  indulge  in  pas- 
sionate excesses,  and  in  the  wallow  of  the  appetites. 

It  is  proper  that  we  should  determine  what  a  man's  manhood  is  ; 
what  it  is  that  is  man,  in  man.  Not  everything.  There  is  a  difference 
between  men  and  the  animated  creation,  a  part  of  which  they  are. 
They  are  said  to  be  the  head  of  the  animal  creation.  By  virtue  of 
what  ?  Why  are  they  different  ?  In  what  does  that  difference  con- 
sist? In  determining  this,  it  is  proper  that  we  should  characterize 
every  one  by  that  which  is  the  highest  and  best  in  him.  If  you  wished 
to  define  or  characterize  a  king,  it  is  not  those  things  which  he  has  in 
common  with  all  his  subjects  that  you  would  employ,  but  those  things 
which  separate  him  from  others,  and  put  him  in  distinction  from  them. 
If  you  are  attempting  to  describe  a  philosopher,  you  mention  those 
things  which  are  peculiar  to  a  philosopher.  It  is  not  that  he  eats,  and 
drinks,  and  sleeps,  that  makes  him  a  philosopher ;  for  all  men  do  these 
things.  Fools  do,  and  idiots  do,  as  well  as  he.  You  are  to  single  out 
those  things  which  make  him  a  philosopher,  in  order  to  characterize 
him.  This  is  perfectly  right.  It  is  the  common  sense  way  of  distin- 
guishing all  men. 

Now,  in  determining  a  man's  time  nature  and  position,  the  same 
rule  is  fan*.  What  our  manhood  is,  is  determined,  not  by  the  things 
which  we  have  in  common  with  the  great  mass  of  animated  creation, 
but  by  those  things  which  lift  us  higher  than  they,  marking  us  as  su- 
perior to  them.  We  come  all  the  way  up  in  physical  organization 
with  the  myriad  tribes  that  fly,  or  swim,  or  creep,  or  walk.  It  is  not 
those  things  that  we  have  in  common  with  them  which  make  our 
manhood.  We  have  all  those  same  appetites  and  passions  by  which 
they  maintain  life ;  by  which  they  fight  off  then-  enemies  ;  by  which 
they  secure,  in  the  struggle  of  life,  the  means  of  existence.  We  and 
they  are  just  alike  in  those  respects.  And  it  is  not  fair  to  attempt  to 
determine  our  manhood  by  the  things  which  we  have  in  common  with 
the  ass,  with  the  ox,  with  the  lion,  or  with  the  sei-pent.  We  must  rise 
higher  than  the  things  which  are  possessed  by  these  creatm-es,  in  order 
to  find  out  what  manhood  is  in  man. 

Lookhig  at  it  in  this  light,  the  first  thing  that  I  will  mention,  as 
discriminating  men  from  every  other  part  of  creation,  and  as  constitut- 
ing a  portion  of  their  true  manhood,  is  then*  reason — and  that  in  two 
aspects. 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  317 

First,  let  us  consider  it  as  a  governing  light  and  power.  I  l)e]ieve 
the  superior  animals  have  the  germs  or  nidiraents  of  reason.  There  is 
no  question  that  the  dog  does,  in  a  very  limited  way,  reason,  and  that 
the  elephant  does,  and  that  the  horse  does.  And  that  reason  in  these 
animals  is  of  the  same  general  kind  as  the  human  reason,  I  do  not  doubt. 
But  it  is  very  limited,  very  low,  and  only  occasional.  In  them  it  does 
not  serve  as  a  guide,  and  it  is  only  now  and  then  that  it  acts  at  all ; 
whereas  in  man  reason  is  a  light  that,  shining,  shines  all  the  time, 
growing  brighter  and  brighter,  and  more  and  more  comprehensive,  and 
entering  into  eveiy  part  of  his  life,  determining  choices,  likes  and  dis- 
likes, aims  and  ends,  and  is  a  governing  influence. 

The  other  view  which  we  are  to  take  of  reason,  is  that  by  its  force 
we  are  able  to  prophesy.  That  is  to  say,  experience  does  lay  a  founda- 
tion by  which  a  man  may  judge  from  the  results  of  certain  causes  to- 
day what  will  be  the  results  of  those  causes  to-morrow.  For  instance, 
if  last  year,  sowing,  we  derived  such  and  such  results,  we  prophesy 
that  if  we  sow  this  year  we  shall  derive  the  same  results.  We  have 
not  a  reason  that  prophesies  in  respect  to  indeterminate  things  of  which 
we  have  no  ordinary  experience ;  but  within  the  range  of  cause  and 
eflfect  the  human  reason  is  prophetic,  so  that  a  man  is  able  to  connect 
all  his  life  together.  And  this  it  is  which  distinguishes  between  the 
human  and  brute  reason  more  significantly  than  anything  else.  A  horse, 
so  far  as  we  can  see,  lives  only  from  day  to  day.  There  is  no  token 
that  he  thinks  of  to-morrow.  He  certainly  does  not  think  of  next 
week,  or  next  month.  There  is  a  sort  of  rude  prevision  or  caution  in 
some  animals — in  the  beaver,  for  instance.  We  cannot  see  what  are 
its  metes  and  bounds  ;  but  we  see  that  there  are  the  rudiments  of  what 
in  the  human  animal  is  prophetic  reason — that  power  by  which  men 
carry,  through  a  long  life,  a  complex  organization,  each  of  whose  parts 
acts  upon  every  other  part. 

Here,  then,  is  one  grand  distinguishing  trait  of  manhood  which 
stands  separated  from  the  whole  animal  kingdom  around  about  us. 
We  have  a  volume  and  potency  of  reason  which  belongs  to  no  other 
animals ;  and  that  is  one  of  the  constituent  elements  of  our  manhood. 
The  reason  that  looks  before  and  after ;  the  reason  that  takes  cogni- 
sance both  of  things  seen  and  things  invisible  ;  the  reason  that  recog- 
nizes parts  and  relations  and  qualities,  and  so  works  by  the  senses,  and 
above  the  senses,  in  a  higher  sphere — this  is  manhood  reason. 

The  next  constituent  element  of  a  true  manhood  is  moral  sense,  or 
a  constitution  by  which  the  soul  recognizes  moral  obligations,  from 
which,  by  a  comparison  of  the  performance  of  our  life,  measured  by 
obligation,  we  come  to  understand  the  qualities  of  right  and  wrong; 
to   accept   a   higher   standard  of  obligation   than   mere   self-will,  or 


318  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

than  mere  self-indulgence  and  pleasure.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
animals  ever  have  a  conception  of  right  and  wrong.  They  have  of 
pleasure  and  pain.  They  fear  the  one,  and  desire  the  other.  That 
seems  to  be  the  hmit.  And  all  the  choices  of  animals  vibrate  simply 
between  the  senses  of  pleasure  and  pain. 

It  is  not  so  in  man.  We  lift  ourselves  far  above  that.  Eveiy  rea- 
sonable man  in  an  ordinarily  well  instructed  community  is  conscious 
that  right^and-wrong  has  a  vast  sphere,  and  that  he  acts  from  day  to 
day  in  reference  to  those  beneath  him  and  those  above  him,  in  refer- 
ence to  property,  and  reputation,  and  name,  and  mutual  service,  and  all 
manner  of  things,  by  a  subtle  operation  within  him  of  the  moral  sense  ; 
and  that  there  is  a  principle  of  right  or  wrong.  However  much  he 
may  neglect  it,  however  imperfect  its  operations  may  become,  that 
quality  is  there ;  and  it  is  that  quality  which  distinguishes  between  the 
human  race  and  the  animal  races  beneath.  It  is  not  merely  that  we 
have  reason,  but  that  w^e  have  a  reason  which  busies  itself  in  attempt- 
ing to  adjust  this  great  element  of  right  and  wrong. 

Then  we  have  one  more  characteristic — a  spiritual  nature — an  en- 
dowment of  sentiments  which  insphe  the  idea  of  purity,  of  self-denial, 
of  holy  love,  of  supersensuousness.  I  prefer  the  term  supersensuous  to 
the  term  supernatural ;  for  I  hold  that  religion  is  just  as  natural  as  na- 
ture itself,  and  that  of  the  spiiitual  intuitions  of  the  soul  the  highest 
are  conformable  to  the  law  of  nature — of  higher  nature. 

There  is  no  evidence  that  the  animal  kingdom  have  the  first  gleam 
or  intimation  of  spiritual  influence.  This  is  peculiar  to  man.  And  in 
the  human  race  it  is  the  lowest  and  the  least  in  those  that  are  said  to  be 
nearest  to  nature — that  is,  nearest  to  mere  physical  nature ;  and  it  de- 
velops just  m  the  ratio  of  civilization.  There  can  be  no  civilization 
that  does  not  augment  reason  in  both  respects — as  a  light,  and  as 
iDrophecy.  There  can  be  no  civilization  that  does  not  augment  the 
moral  sense.  There  can  be  no  civilization  that  does  not  augment  the 
spiritual  nature,  giving  to  man  a  highei-  upper-life ;  giving  him  more 
of  the  qualities  of  love  and  hope  and  faith,  and  of  fine  discrimination 
in  these  superior  and  ultimate  moral  states. 

I  might  argue — and  fahly,  I  think — that  these  best  things  are  al- 
ways, in  the  order  of  nature,  latest.  That  is,  as  eveiything  comes  to 
its  fullest  value  last,  an  observation  of  the  law  of  development  would 
show  that,  as  reason  comes  earliest,  the  moral  sense  next,  and  the 
spiritual  faculties  last,  so  this  is  the  order  of  superiority ;  and  the  man- 
hood of  a  man  lies,  highest  in  his  spiritual  influence,  next  in  his  moral 
sentiments,  and  lowest  in  his  reason.  But  in  all  these  three — in  this 
trinity  of  qualification — he  stands  distinguished  above  all  his  fellows  in 
the  "-reat  animated  kingdom  of  the  world.     He  is  superior  to  them  be- 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  319 

cause  he  is  a  creature  of  reason,  and  moral  sentiments,  and  spiiitual 
endowments. 

It  is  in  these  things,  then,  that  our  manhood  lies.  It  does  not  lie 
in  the  fact  that  we  are  erect.  It  does  not  lie  in  the  fact  that  we  are 
called  men.  It  lies  in  the  fjict  that  we  have,  in  distinction  from 
every  other  creature  that  we  know  of  on  the  globe,  a  superior  and 
prophetic  reason,  guiding  life,  and  connecting  all  parts  of  it  together 
in  symmetry  and  in  purpose ;  that  w^e  have  conceptions  of  right  and 
wi'ong  which  fit  us  to  live  in  infinite  complications  with  our  fellow 
men,  and  still  obsei*ve  the  law  of  love  and  the  law  of  their  happiness  ; 
and  that  we  have  relations  to  another  life  beyond  this,  supersensuous, 
above  the  sight  of  the  eye  and  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  wherein  the  soul 
can  even  here  begin  to  take  hold  of  invisible  beings,  invisible  qualities, 
and  invisible  states,  and  know  itself  to  be  a  child  of  God  and  of  im- 
mortality. 

It  is  in  this  higher  range  of  faculties,  thus  very  briefly,  compen- 
diously defined,  that  a  man  is  to  look  for  his  manhood.  You  are  a 
man  by  as  much  as  you  have  this  particular  part  developed.  You  are 
less  than  a  man  just  in  the  proportion  in  which  you  recede  and  shrink 
from  this  kind  of  measuring.  As  you  would  never  think  of  measuring 
a  musician  by  considering  what  he  was  as  a  draftsman,  or  what  he  was 
as  a  mathematician,  but  by  considering  what  he  was  as  a  musician  ;  as 
you  would  measure  him  by  those  qualities  which  belong  to  a  musician ; 
so  in  measuring  manhood,  you  must  take  those  qualities  which  are  con- 
stituent in  manhood,  and  judge  by  them. 

Since  one's  manhood,  or  his  true  self,  is  to  be  found  in  his  nobler 
attributes,  and  in  his  true  spu-itual  relations,  he  who  leaves  these  unused, 
and  lives  in  the  lower  range  of  faculties,  may  be  truly  said  to  have  for- 
saken himself.  He  has  gone  down  out  of  himself  into  that  which  was 
a  supplementaiy  nature,  an  auxiliary  part.  He  has  left  that  nature  of 
reason,  and  that  nature  of  moral  sense,  and  that  nature  of  siiirituality, 
which  constituted  his  manhood,  and  has  given  himself  up  to  the  range 
of  the  senses.  And  that  is  the  way  the  bird  lives.  That  is  the  way 
the  brute  creation  lives.  He  and  they  alike  live  for  the  gi-atification 
of  the  appetites  and  the  passions. 

It  does  not  require  that  a  man  should  become  an  assassin,  or  a 
mighty  criminal,  before  it  can  be  said  that  he  is  unnatural.  Every  man 
that  teaches  himself  to  find  the  chief  employments  and  enjoyments  of 
his  manhood  low«.'r  tlian  in  his  reason  and  moral  sentiments  and  spiritual 
nature,  has  forsnkcn  himself.  Every  man  whose  business  is  manual 
and  physical,  and  who  contents  himself  with  that  business,  and  feeds 
himself  by  nothing  liigher  than  that,  is  a  creature  that  is  spending  his 
life  iorces  lower  than  the  level  of  true  manhood.     It  is  not  a  mLsfortune 


320  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

to  be  a  mechanic  ;  but  it  is  a  misfortune  to  be  only  a  mecbanic.  It  la 
not  a  misfortune  to  be  a  farmer,  but  it  is  a  misfortune  to  be  nothing  but 
a  farmer.  It  is  not  a  misfortune  to  be  a  mariner,  or  a  day-laborer  ;  but 
the  man  that  labors,  working  with  his  hands,  and  never  thinks  any 
higher  than  his  work,  is  unfortunate.  It  is  a  misfortune  for  a  man  to 
have  abandoned  his  manhood  so  that  the  operations  of  his  mere  physical 
frame  shall  satisfy  him.  All  the  upper  realm  of  such  a  man's  nature  has 
been  shut  up.  That  which  distinguishes  him  in  the  creation  of  his 
Father ;  that  which  gives  him  the  right  to  say,  "  Our  Father,"  is  all 
disused.  It  is  as  if  a  man,  inheriting  a  magnificent  palace,  should  shut 
up  every  one  of  the  numerous  apartments  except  the  eating-room,  and 
there  live  and  feed. 

How  many  there  are  that  are  laborious,  and  live,  as  the  great  mass 
of  the  human  family  must  live,  by  the  mere  exercise  of  mechanical 
power !  And  that  is  not  a  misfortune  necessarily.  But  how  many 
men  are  satisfied  with  that !  How  many  are  contented  to  work,  and 
to  think  just  enough  to  get  that  which  they  shall  eat  and  di'lnk,  and  a 
place  to  eat  and  sleep,  and  a  place  for  a  little  low  social  merriment ! 
Their  whole  ambition  in  life  is  filled  by  these  few  things.  They  care 
for  nothing  more  and  for  nothing  further.  It  is  that  which  is  a 
misfortune.  It  is  a  misfortune  that  a  man  should  have  no  sti'ong  am- 
bition to  make  him  feel  that  he  must  have  something  more  than  the 
animal  has — mere  mechanism.  It  is  not  for  a  man  to  be  simply  a 
machine.  It  is  not  for  him  to  be  content  with  that.  It  is  for  him  to 
desire  knowledge.  It  is  for  him  by  knowledge  to  have  a  larger 
function.  It  is  for  him  to  have  moral  sentiment.  It  is  for  him  to 
strike  through  life  higher  and  nobler  conceptions  and  impulses.  It  is 
for  him  to  seek  out  above  his  Avork,  or  by  his  work,  or  beyond  his  work, 
something  that  the  soul  can  enjoy — something  for  the  reason  ;  some- 
thing for  the  imagination  ;  something  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  senti- 
ments. That  is  the  business  of  every  man,  no  matter  how  poor  he  is. 
That  is  one  reason,  I  think,  why  God  has  given  us  so  much  to 
know  in  nature — for  nature  is  a  man's  library  who  knows  how  to  seek 
for  knowledge.  Nature  is  every  man's  picture  gallery  who  knows  how 
to  hunger  after  and  appreciate  beauty.  Nature  is  every  man's  port- 
folio, and  herbarium,  and  garden.  Nature  is  full  of  instruction  to  those 
who  have  a  heart  for  knowledge. 

He,  therefore,  who  lives  so  far  down  that  his  trade  or  profession 
satisfies  him,  is  living  below  his  manhood,  and  is  unfortunate.  And  how 
much  more  unfortunate  is  he,  if  he  lives  in  his  appetites  and  passions, 
and  neglects  even  utility.  Tiiat  is  low  enough.  And  if  he  is  dissi- 
pated, and  gives  himself  up  to  animal  inclinations,  wherein  is  he  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  swine  ?     He  that  roots  and  eats,  filling  his  belly 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  321 

only  to  He  iu  swinish  filth  and  stupidity  till  hunger  inspu'cs  him  again 
— wherein  does  he  show  himself  superior  to  the  animals  that  do  the 
same  thing  ?  Wherein  is  a  man,  though  he  is  royally  endowed,  higher 
than  the  brutes,  if  he  lives  as  they  live  ? 

The  great  multitude  of  men  do  live  outside  of,  or  below,  their  time 
nature.  I  mean  not  merely  those  who  pervert  it  in  the  ways  which  I 
have  been  describing,  but  even  those  who  pursue  the  ordinary  avoca- 
tions of  respectable  life.  If  they  examine  themselves,  they  will  find 
that  they  set  up  aims  which  in  the  main  are  to  please  their  pride  and 
vanity  and  selfishness.  Then-  great  purposes  in  life  do  not  rise  to  the 
supersensuous.  I  apprehend  that  if  men  were  to  sit  down  and  waite 
out  what  they  mean  to  do  and  what  they  mean  to  be,  the  greater  part 
of  them,  when  they  came  to  measure  their  aims  by  any  high,  true  sph- 
itual  standard,  would  be  ashamed  to  see  how  ignoble  those  aims  are. 
The  thing  that  is  aimed  at  mostly  in  our  day,  is  money.  In  our 
day  men  "seek  then-  fortune."  It  has  come  to  be  almost  a  maxim,  that 
men  go  into  life  to  "seek  their  fortune;"  to  build  themselves  up;  to  get 
that  which  they  think  will  make  all  men  obey  them,  and  respect  them, 
and  please  them,  and  honor  them.  It  is  pride,  vanity,  avarice,  love  of 
property,  in  the  main,  that  men  set  up  as  the  end  of  life :  not  true 
manhood  ;  not  the  power  of  wisdom  ;  not  the  power  of  goodness  ;  not 
the  power  of  obedience  to  divine  commands ;  not  the  power  of  bene- 
faction ;  but  the  simple  power  of  gratifying  self-love,  in  one  way  and 
another. 

Look,  young  men,  at  the  scheme  that  you  have  laid  out  for  your- 
selves, at  what  you  mean  to  do  and  mean  to  be,  and  see  if  the  aim  of 
your  life  goes  much  higher  than  that  which  I  have  shown  you.  It  is 
your  purpose  to  pander  to  some  form  of  selfishness — social  selfishness, 
civil  selfishness,  or  individual  selfishness.  And  yet  that  does  not  reach 
high  enough  to  touch  even  the  lowest  level  of  manhood.  It  leaves  you 
still  aiming  at  things  which  lie  outside  of  true  manhood. 

The  forces  which  men  employ  are  largely  forces  which  spring  from 
their  lower  nature.  The  judgments  which  they  apply  to  themselves,  aa 
prospering  or  not  prospering,  are  judgments  which  are  derived  from 
this  lower  Avay  of  looking  at  manhood.  I  hear  men  spoken  of  as  being 
very  greatly  prospered  whose  prosperity  will  not  bear  looking  into. 
They  are  prospered ;  but  it  is  by  the  sacrifice  of  their  moral  sense.  They 
are  prospered;  but  it  is  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  refinement  and  delicacy. 
They  ai-e  prospered ;  but  it  is  by  the  sacrifice  of  then-  nobler  natm-es. 
They  are  prospered  !  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  That  they  range 
high  among  men  in  this  world,  and  have  money,  influence,  power, 
physical  excellence.  Men  say  that  a  man  is  prospered  because  he  has 
become  strong  and  rich  in  these  lower  elements.     On  the  other  hand, 


322  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

a  man  that  has  gone  through  sickness,  and  bankruptcy,  and  severe  trials 
that  pruned  him  on  the  right  and  on  the  left,  and  beat  him  down,  until 
he  has  become  patient,  contented,  lowly,  disinterested,  and  is  far 
more  like  his  Master  than  ever  before — such  a  man,  instead  of  being 
regai'ded  as  prosperous,  is  looked  upon  with  pity,  and  men  say  of  him, 
"He  is  a  ruined  man !"  As  if,  a  man's  boat  having  sunk,  and  he  hav- 
ing swum  to  the  shore,  and  standing  strong  on  the  land,  people  should 
say,  "  He  is  gone !"     No,  he  is  saved !     His  boat  is  lost,  but  not  he. 

All  that  is  worth  saving  in  manhood  is  that  which  belongs  to  the 
reason,  the  moral  sense,  and  the  spu'itual  element.  There  is  many  and 
many  a  man  that  has  been  beaten  as  the  flail  beats  the  straw ;  and  the 
straw  and  the  chaff  have  been  left  behind,  and  the  wheat  has  been  kept 
and  put  into  the  granary ;  and  the  men  have  cried  as  though  the  wheat 
were  being  left  behind,  and  they  had  got  nothing. 

Do  not  men  measure  themselves  by  these  false  and  low  standards  ? 
Do  they  not  aim  at  things  that  lie  outside  of  the  true  sphere  of  man- 
hood 1  Do  they  bring  into  operation  forces  and  form  judgments  which 
show  that  they  do  not  live  outside  of  themselves  ? 

Men,  whenever  they  look  into  these  things  seriously,  see  and  re- 
alize that  then*  real  manhood  sits  in  judgment  uj)on  then-  ordinary  life. 
If  I  were  to  preach  to  you  to-day  the  doctrine  of  total  depravity,  many 
of  you  would  say,  "It  is  right,"  and  go  to  sleep;  and  many  of  you 
would  say,  "  It  is  wrong,"  and  resist  it,  according  to  the  way  in  which 
you  have  been  educated,  and  according  to  your  temperament  and  dis- 
position. If  I  were  to  say  that  all  men  are  sinful,  and  were  to  take  the 
old-fashioned  track,  you  would  be  somewhat  interested,  perhaps,  for 
the  moment,  but  most  of  you  would  say,  "It  may  be  theologically  true; 
but,  after  all,  it  is  an  overcharged  statement."  And  yet,  is  there  one 
of  you  who  can  take  his  life  and  disposition,  and  bring  them  into  judg- 
ment before  his  higher  self,  before  his  dispassionate  reason,  and  justify 
them  ?  Is  there  one  of  you  who  can  say  that  every  day  his  reason,  at 
evening,  looks  back  and  approves  everything  that  he  has  done  ?  Is  there 
one  of  you  that  does  not  sit  in  condemnation  at  the  bar  of  his  own  judg- 
ment every  single  day  that  he  lives  ?  This  first  element  of  your  higher 
nature,  if  active,  is  sufficient  to  keep  you  habitually  under  condemnar 
tion  to  yourselves.  Your  lower  nature  is  carrying  on  life  in  such  a 
way  that  the  very  first  element  of  your  true  manhood  condemns  it :  not 
in  single  things,  but  in  innumerable  things.  Do  we  not  all  the  time 
say,  "We  ought  to  be  more  under  the  guidance  of  om-  reason ;  but  our 
feelings  cany  us  away"?  People  are  continually  saying,  "Oh! 
that  I  knew  how  to  be  more  reasonable,  that  I  might  not  make  so 
many  mistakes."  Men,  talking  among  themselves  about  human  life,  in- 
dependent of  theology,  and  without  bias,  admit  that  they  act  hration- 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  323 

ally,  seeking  things  of  less  value  rather  than  of  higher  value;  indulging 
feelings  that  ought  not  to  be  indulged;  doing  things  to-day  that  they  know 
they  will  be  sorry  for  to-morrow ;  over-eating  or  under-sleeping ;  violating 
the  laws  of  body  or  mind  in  a  multitude  of  ways.  They  are  continually 
conducting  the  aifairs  of  life  in  ways  that  their  experience  teaches  them 
to  be  mischievous.  They  are  convinced  of  it.  They  cannot  help  know- 
uig  it.  There  is  not  a  single  man  here  to-day,  who,  if  I  should  put 
the  question  to  him,  "  Do  you  not  live  so  as  to  be  at  odds  with  your 
better  reason  ?"  would  not  be  obliged  to  admit  that  he  does.  If  I  were 
to  call  upon  those  to  raise  their  hands  who  act  in  consonance  with  their 
reason,  is  there  one  of  you  that  could  hold  up  his  hand  ?  And  if  there 
was  one  that  did  raise  his  hand,  would  you  not  laugh  at  him,  every  one 
of  you,  and  say,  "  No,  he  does  not  act  so  "  ? 

Take  a  step  higher.  Do  you  live  habitually,  in  your  ordinary  affairs, 
in  your  social  intercourse,  in  the  things  that  you  seek  and  the  things 
that  you  avoid,  according  to  the  dictates  of  your  moral  sense  ?  Ai'e  you 
conscious  that  you  bring  to  bear  upon  your  conduct  the  great  moral 
measurements,  the  rights  and  the  wrongs,  that  have  been  determined 
by  the  holiest  experiences  of  the  best  men  of  the  world,  and  have  come 
down  to  us  in  the  records  of  God's  word,  as  God's  best  judgments  ex- 
pressed through  such  experiences  through  thousands  of  years  ?  Do 
you  live  in  accord  with  them  ?  Are  you  uniformly  generous,  uniformly 
unselfish,  uniformly  true  ?  Is  your  life  straight  ?  Is  your  path  from 
day  to  day  a  line  di-awn  as  true  as  a  rale  could  draw  it  ?  Ai'e  you 
riffht-eons,  or  are  you  unright-eous,  ?  Measure  yom*  life  by  this  higher 
moral  sentiment.  Is  there  a  man  who  does  not  know  that  his  life  will 
not  bear  any  such  measurement  as  that  ?  Every  man  says,  "  There  is 
not  a  faculty  that,  when  it  acts,  does  not  act  crookedly."  Take  any 
single  one  of  your  feelings  and  watch  it  for  a  single  day,  and  you  will 
find  it  to  be  so. 

When  the  shipmaster  is  steering  across  the  sea,  all  the  time  keep- 
ing his  eye  upon  the  compass,  and  holding  the  vessel  as  near  as  he  can 
to  an  exact  line,  it  seems  to  him  that  he  is  running  in  a  straight  line  ; 
but  he  is  far  from  it.  I  looked  with  great  interest  at  the  charts  that 
were  laid  out  for  those  yachts  that  crossed  the  ocean.  They  undertook  to 
draw  the  shortest  line  between  New  York  and  Liverpool;  and  it  seems, 
when  you  look  at  the  record  of  their  observations,  as  though  they  ran 
up  and  down,  constantly,  going  in  anything  but  a  straight  line,  al- 
though they  thought  at  the  time  that  they  were  following  a  direct 
course. 

Let  a  man  take  any  one  of  his  feelings,  and  chart  it  from  day  to 
day,  and  follow  it,  and  see  how  zig-zag  it  goes ;  how  out  of  proportion 
it  is ;  how  it  is  deficient  here  and  in  excess  there.     There  is  not  a  man 


324  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

who  is  not  obliged  to  say,  "  If  I  measure  by  this  second  element  of  man- 
hood,  I  am  all  the  time  living  below  my  manhood,  and  out  of  tune  with 
myself." 

But  if  you  bring  in  the  life  to  come,  the  consciousness  of  God  ever- 
present,  the  considerations  which  spring  from  the  sweet,  and  pure,  and 
blessed  life  of  holiness  and  love  in  the  heavenly  land ;  if  you  measm-e 
by  that,  there  is  no  use  of  talking  about  it.  We  know  so  little  of  it 
that  it  seems  like  the  filmiest  cloud.  It  is  not,  for  instance,  enough,  in 
our  conception,  to  be  used  as  a  rule  or  measure.  The  higher  men  go 
up  in  true  manhood,  the  less  do  thej  find  in  their  practical  life  to  please 
themselves  withal,  and  flatter  themselves  withal,  and  justify  themselves 
withal,  and  the  more  do  they  see  that  they  are  living  lower  than  the 
line  which  separates  between  the  animal  and  the  man.  Most  men  live 
below  that  equatorial  line.  Very  few  men  get  above  it ;  and  they  get 
but  a  very  few  degrees  above  it.  And  there  is  not  a  man  living,  who, 
if  he  takes  true  manhood,  and  measures  himself  by  it,  will  not  be 
obliged  to  say, "I  am  altogether  sinful." 

My  dear  friends,  I  do  not  care  on  what  theory  you  philosophize.  I 
&m  not  anxious  that  you  should  believe  in  sin  as  defined  by  the  Armi- 
niaii  or  the  Calvinist.  I  do  not  wish  to  impose  upon  you  any  old  or 
new  philosophy.  The  main  thing  is  that  men  should  have  such  a  con- 
ception of  then*  inferiority,  and  of  the  lowness  at  which  they  are  liv- 
ing, that  they  shall  be  brought  into  the  conscious  need  of  succor  and 
help.  It  is  for  this  that  I  am  preaching.  You  are  living  below  your 
true  manhood.  It  is  only  once  in  a  while  that  you  come  to  yourself. 
You  do  once  in  a  while. 

When  a  truly  eminent  Christian  man  dies,  and  the  sound  of  life  is 
for  a  short  time  hushed,  all  your  better  feelings  lay  down  their  warlike 
feathers,  and  there  rises  up  in  your  soul  a  consciousness,  an  ideal,  of 
what  you  ought  to  be,  and  how  you  ought  to  live,  for  a  single  moment, 
it  may  be,  or  a  single  hour. 

I  have  seen  men  come  over  from  their  business  in  New  York,  to 
attend  the  funeral  of  a  brother — of  some  eminent  Christian — and  shed 
tears  in  this  house.  When,  for  instance.  Brother  Corning  was  bmied, 
I  saw  hard-faced  men  cry.  And  I  know  what  we  should  hear  such 
men  say  if  we  could  listen  to  their  conversation  as  they  walk  away  on 
such  occasions.  "  Dear  brother,"  sa}  s  one,  "  we  have  been  working 
for  money  ;  but  that  is  not  the  main  thing.  It  is  only  a  little  while 
that  it  can  do  us  any  good."  "  That  is  true,"  says  another.  "  We 
must  die  soon.  It  will  not  be  long  before  there  will  be  just  such  a  fu- 
neral for  us.  And  are  we  ready  V  And  so  these  two  men,  gray- 
haired,  it  may  be,  very  simple  and  very  much  in  earnest,  give  expres- 
sion to  their  feelings  as  they  go  down  to  Fulton  Ferry.     And  as  they 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  325 

cross  over  they  say  to  themselves,  "  I  will  think  of  these  things,  and 
try  to  carry  the  impression  of  them  with  me."  But  when  they  go  up  the 
street  on  the  other  side  they  meet  this  man  and  that  man,  and  their 
minds  are  distracted  from  these  serious  thoughts  ;  and  when  they  get 
back  into  their  counting-room  they  forget  all  about  them.  They  did 
think  they  would  tell  their  wives  all  about  it  when  they  got  home  at 
night ;  but,  when  at  the  supper-table,  they  were  asked,  "  Husband,  did 
you  go  to  the  funeral  to-day!"  they  said,  "Yes."  "Was  it  a  good 
funeral  ?"  "Very,  very."  That  was  all  they  had  to  say  about  it !  And 
yet,  they  had  had  a  revelation.  They  had  come  to  themselves,  though 
it  was  but  for  an  hour. 

There  is  many  a  man,  tu'ed,  weary,  who  strays  away  from  his  busi- 
ness, and,  it  may  be,  falls  in  at  some  concert  room.  Not  in  all  natures, 
but  in  some,  the  imagination  is  sthred  by  music,  and  as  thej'  listen  they 
are  affected.  They  think  it  simply  pleases  them ;  but  it  does  more  than 
that.  It  wins  them,  and  lifts  them  into  finer  thoughts  and  higher  re- 
gions of  contemplation.  There  is  many  a  man  who,  as  he  has  listened 
to  music,  has  di-eamed  di'eams,  and  had  tears  run  down  his  cheeks. 
And  people  observing  his  emotion,  would  ask,  "  What !  does  Men- 
delssohn affect  you  ?"  and  starting  up,  he  would  say,  "Oh !  Mendelssohn, 
was  if?  I  Avas  not  hearing  that.  I  was  thinking  of  something 
else."  Why,  the  man  had  come  to  himself,  under  the  sweet  bewitch- 
ment of  music.  All  his  grosser  feelings  had  gone  down,  because  his 
finer  feelings  had  gone  up,  and  he  was  judging  himself,  and  all  his  am- 
bitions and  desires,  by  a  higher  standard.  He  knew  enough  to  do  it, 
and  God  gave  him  a  chance ;  and  for  an  horn*  he  came  to  himself,  and 
was  a  better  man. 

Kow,  how  can  we  cany  this  coming  to  ourselves  so  as  to  keep  it, 
and  cast  it  forward,  and  find  it  to-morrow,  and  the  next  day,  and  every 
day,  and  thus  live  in  our  real  manhood,  instead  of  below  it,  in  our 
animal  manhood,  or  falsehood  ? 

I  have  seen  many  a  man  learn  more  at  his  cradle  than  he  ever  did 
from  the  pulpit.  I  have  seen  many  a  brave,  strong  man,  who  could 
face  theology,  and  who,  if  you  flashed  arguments  on  him,  was  not  hurt 
by  them,  any  more  than  a  house  is  damaged  by  the  lightning  which 
strikes  the  lightning-i'od,  and  runs  into  the  ground.  But  there  came  into 
his  home  a  stealthy  preacher,  without  notes.  A  little  flower  that  he 
has  cherished  begins  to  wither — and  you  never  know  how  much  you 
love  anything  till  it  begins  to  go  out  of  your  hand.  And  this  strong 
man,  this  wise  man,  this  man  that  you  could  not  reason  with,  nor  do 
anything  with,  deliquesced  like  a  cluster  of  grapes  that  lies  under  the 
vintner's  crushing  foot.  All  his  spirit  was  like  the  juice  that  runs  out. 
And  at  last  the  little  bu'd  ceased  to  sing.     And  the  flowers  lay  ai'ound 


326      .  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

only  to  be  rebuked  as  not  so  sweet  nor  so  beautiful  as  the  one  little 
pale  face  among  them.  And  he  took  his  little  child  down  to  say  fare- 
well to  it ;  and  came  back  home  saying,  all  the  way,  inwardly,  "  Oh 
God  !  oh  God  !  oh  God  !"  And  coming  to  the  door,  there  was  noth- 
ing there.  And  going  into  the  house,  he  felt  how  hateful  everything 
looked  that  used  to  look  so  beautiful.  And  he  was  angry  if  the  sei-vant 
happened  to  speak ;  and  then  was  ashamed  because  he  was  angiy.  And 
he  did  not  know  what  ailed  him.  All  day  and  all  night  he  said  in 
himself,  "  What  is  this  life  worth  *?  What  is  all  my  money  worth  % 
What  is  my  honor  worth  ?  Oh !  if  I  could  get  back  that  little  child 
again,  I  would  give  everything  I  have  in  this  world." 

Is  not  that  heart-sickness  ?  Is  not  that  the  coming  of  a  man  to 
himself,  and  saying,  "  My  joy  does  not  depend  upon  my  riches  nor 
upon  my  honor,  but  upon  love."  Here  was  this  little  lover  nestling  in 
the  man's  bosom,  and  God  loved  it,  and  took  it,  and  left  the  father 
bankrupt  in  his  heart ;  and  he  bore  testimony,  "  I  cannot  be  fed  in  my 
soul  with  bread,  nor  honor,  nor  money ;  I  must  have  something  higher." 
Here  was  a  man  that  came  to  himself  for  an  hour,  and  stood  in  the 
royalty  of  his  divine  nature,  and  measured  his  life,  and  all  things,  by  a 
higher  standard,  and  rebuked  himself,  saying,  "  Thou  art  poor,  and 
lean,  and  weak,  and  art  perishing  before  the  moth." 

Oh !  who  would  invest  property  in  any  dh-ection  in  which  he  could 
be  as  easily  bankrupted  as  a  man  can  be  in  his  heart  ?  And  yet,  you 
put  your  heart's  treasure  in  the  keej)ing  of  a  child,  that  is  liable  at  any 
moment  to  stumble  into  death.  At  every  step  you  put  your  heart, 
and  all  you  have  of  higher  enjoyment,  into  the  keeping  of  chance, 
which  to-day  is  like  a  bubble,  and  to-morrow  is  gone  as  the  bubble  is 
gone.  And  do  you  suppose  men  do  not  think  of  these  things  ?  They 
do  think  of  them ;  but  they  do  not  know  what  the  meaning  of  them  is. 
I  tell  you,  it  is  your  true  manhood  sitting  in  judgment  on  your  common 
life,  and  saying  to  every  one  of  you,  "  You  are  living  outside  of  your- 
self; you  are  not  living  as  God  made  you  to  live,  and  as  you  yom-self 
know  that  you  ought  to  live.  You  are  not  good ;  you  are  but  a  little 
good  ;  you  are  not  half  good ;  you  are  hardly  beginning  to  be  good  " ; 
and  you  feel  it  to  be  so. 

It  is  a  glorious  discontent  when  a  man  is  brought  to  that  feeling 
provided  it  works  in  him  reformation — for  we  have  now  reached  that 
point  in  your  consciousness  in  which  I  think  you  vrill  see,  not  only  that 
the  Scripture  doctrine  of  human  sinfulness  is  borne  out  by  facts,  but  that 
if  we  are  to  come  out  of  that  sinfulness,  it  must  be  by  a  transformation 
that  may  well  be  called  being  horn  again.  If  a  man  can  turn  himself 
upside  down,  so  that  the  bottom  shall  be  at  the  top,  and  the  top  shall 
be  at  the  bottom ;  if  a  man  can  live  so  that  his  whole  secular  nature  shall 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  327 

be  subordinated,  and  his  whole  spiritual  nature  shall  be  in  the  euprema- 
cy,  is  he  not  bom  again  ?  And  can  a  man  come  to  that  state  unless  it 
is  given  him  by  the  spirit  of  God  ? 

My  dear  friends,  God  is  not  jealous.  He  is  just  as  willing  as  you 
are,  and  a  great  deal  more  willing  than  you  are,  that  you  should,  if  you 
can,  become  eminently  holy  without  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  If  any 
one  of  you  can  rise  up  and  change  your  reason,  and  moral  sense,  and 
selfish  disposition,  you  have  perfect  liberty  to  do  it.  There  is  no 
jealousy  on  the  part  of  God  that  should  hinder  you.  There  is  no  royal 
way  that  you  must  walk  in  order  to  come  back  to  yom-self  and  to  him. 

My  child  has  in  the  cellar  what  he  calls  a  little  garden ;  and  on 
going  down  there  I  find  that  he  has  set  his  tulip  bulbs  in  a  row  in  the 
sand,  and  lighted  tallow  candles  and  placed  one  over  against  each  bulb. 
And  I  say,  "  Well,  my  son,  what  now  ?"  "  Oh,"  he  says,  "  I  am  going 
to  raise  flowers."  "  But,"  I  say,  "  you  cannot  bring  flowers  out  by 
candle  light.  You  must  take  your  bulbs  out  of  doors  where  they  will 
have  the  sunlight,  or  you  can  get  no  flowers  from  them."  "  That  may 
do  for  old  folks,  father,"  he  says  ;  "  but  I  am  going  to  raise  tulips  by 
candle  light."  "  Well,"  I  say,  "  I  have  no  objection  to  your  doing  it 
if  you  can.  Try  it ;  and  by  and  by,  when  you  have  found  out  whether 
you  can  do  it  or  not,  you  will  be  willing  to  go  out  and  avail  yourself 
of  the  sunlight." 

If  you  think  you  can  bring  out  spuitual  gi'aces  without  the  divine 
quickening  you  need  not  hesitate  to  tiy  it.  If  you  do  not  need  the 
influence  of  that  divine  soul  which  is  full  of  attraction,  which  is  full  of 
beauty  and  blessedness,  and  which  is  waiting  above,  and  longing  to 
help,  you  are  at  liberty  to  get  along  without  it.  If  you  have  power  in 
yourself  which  is  sufficient  for  you,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  use  it.  It  would  not  be  transcending  your  right,  and  it  would  not 
violate  any  part  of  the  divine  economy,  nor  hmt  the  feelings  of  your 
Father  in  heaven. 

But  ah !  when  you  make  your  fii'st  essays,  and  tiy  to  live  by  the 
manhood,  and  not  by  the  animalhood  that  is  in  you,  I  think  there  is 
not  one  single  one  of  you  that  will  not  by  and  by  come  out  humbled, 
and,  like  a  little  child,  say,  "  O  Lord  God !  I  never  can  do  this  work. 
Inspire  me  ;  quicken  me  ;  change  me ;  dwell  in  me  :  I  think  that  then 
I  can  do  it ;  but  without  Thee  I  can  do  nothing."  I  say  to  you  that 
you  may  tiy  a  thousand  times,  but  you  never  will  come  into  a  true 
manhood  until  the  spirit  of  God  helps  you.  You  are  too  weak ;  you 
are  too  wicked ;  you  are  too  ignorant ;  you  are  too  strongly  bound  by 
habit.  But  there  is  that  great  daylight  over  your  head.  There  is  the 
great  loving  heart  of  God.  Oh !  that  great  love  of  God  which  sounds 
in  the  heaven  as  the  ocean  sounds  upon  the  eaith,  that  great  love  of 


328  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

God  which  stretches  abroad  through  the  universe,  as  the  air  encom- 
passes this  whole  globe — that  is  the  secret  power  of  this  whole  realm  ; 
and  it  hungers  for  you,  and  waits  for  you. 

Open  your  heart  to  this  love.  Confess  your  poverty,  your  selfish-' 
ness,  and  your  lowness  of  life.  Ask  God  to  lift  you  into  your  true 
manhood.  He  will  hear  your  prayer,  and  will  not  wait  till  you  come 
veiy  near  to  him,  before  he  comes  to  you. 

And  now  I  go  back  to  the  parable,  and  say,  in  closing,  that  when 
the  prodigal  first  came  to  himself,  he  thought  of  his  father,  and  his 
fatherland,  and  determined  to  go  back  and  confess  his  wrong.  And 
he  made  up  his  story.  "  I  will  go  to  my  father,"  he  said,  "  and 
acknowledge  my  fault,  and  ask  him  to  forgive  me  and  take  me  again, 
and  let  me  be  his  servant."  He  started ;  but  he  was  not  permitted  to 
go  clear  back  before  he  was  welcomed.  The  father  saw  him  afar  off, 
and  had  compassion  on  him,  and  ran  to  meet  him.  Although  the 
father  was  the  one  that  was  injured,  although  the  father  was  right  and 
the  son  was  all  wrong,  it  was  the  father  that  went  and  made  the  con- 
cession, as  it  were.  And  when  the  son  began  his  confession,  the  father 
cut  it  in  two,  and  called  for  the  robe,  and  the  sandals,  and  the  ring,  and 
the  feast.  And  there  was  blessedness  in  that  man's  heart.  He  had 
risen  up  out  of  animalhood  into  manhood  ;  he  had  come  to  himself; 
his  father  had  found  him  ;  and  he  was  indeed  blessed. 

Are  there  not  some  to-day  who  need  this  call  from  their  God  ?  Are 
there  not  some  to  whom  it  will  be  welcome  ?  Ai'e  there  not  some  who 
are  on  the  way  back  from  their  wanderings  and  wickedness  to  the 
Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  their  souls  ? 

May  God  give  his  Holy  Spuit  to  comfort  you,  and  teach  you,  and 
sanctify  you,  that  you  may  be  born  out  of  the  old  life  of  the  flesh,  and 
into  the  new  life  of  the  spirit ;  and  that  finally  you  may  reach  your 
Father's  kingdom. 


COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF.  329 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOIST. 

We  Tender  thanks  to  thee,  our  Heavenly  Father,  that  we  are  not  left  to  discern  the 
truth  as  it  shines  in  the  face  of  nature.  For  above  that  which  this  world  says,  thou 
hast  spolcen  to  us,  speaking  by  holy  men  of  old;  spi'aking  chiefly  by  thy  Son,  Jesus,  our 
Savior;  and  now,  again,  still  interpreting  and  enlarging  thy  truth  in  our  own  experience; 
by  the  Holy  Ghost  guiding,  sanctitying,  and  making  manifest  the  things  that  belong  to 
life.  We  thank  thee  that  we  are  not  of  this  world,  as  the  flowers  ar'  that  spring  up,  and 
perish,  and  are  known  no  more.  Rising  higher  than  all  things  which  thou  hast  made, 
we  are  destined  for  thy  kingdom  above.  For  us  is  a  life  beyond.  We  are  emptied  out 
of  this  life  into  a  more  glorious  spliere— planted  here;  transplanted  there;  growing  that 
we  luay  grow  better  hereafter;  prepared  for  our  fruit,  for  all  that  endless  expansion  and 
glory  of  being  which  the  eye  hath  not  seen,  which  the  ear  hath  not  heard,  and  which  it 
hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.  And  yet,  how  greai  is  the  way 
through  which  we  are  passing  toward  our  own  selves.  We  behold  our  manhood  in  the 
royalty  of  Christ.  Thou,  O  Jesus,  wert  the  only  perfect  man  that  the  eaith  has  ever  seen. 
Aud  though  thou  art  God,  thou  art  man.  Now  in  thee  we  behold  the  stature  of  the  per- 
fectness  of  manhood.  To  ttiat  we  aspire.  Through  passions,  through  tempt  at  ious,  through 
defilements,  through  darkness,  through  weakness,  through  mortal  hindrances,  we  are 
pressing  toward  it.  We  have  not  reached  it  yet.  We  see  it  afar  off.  It  goes  down. 
As  the  lights  sink  when  the  ship  is  storm-tossed,  so,  often,  our  guiding  star  is  lost.  The 
light  by  which  we  steer  is  gone.  And  yet,  it  comes  again.  And  through  storm  and 
through  night  we  press  forward,  that  we  may  reach  this  mark  ;  that  we  may  come  to 
this  prize;  that  we  may  inherit  our  high  calling.  Wo  desire  to  be  like  thee;  yet  in  this 
mortal  state  we  shall  never  reach  to  that  blei-sedness.  Grant  that  we  may  ai  least  find 
this,  that  thou  art  guiding  and  teaching  aud  disciplioing,  that  when  we  drop  this  mor  al 
body  we  may  rise  and  be  blessed  in  thy  presence  forever  more  perfect. 

And  grant  that  we  may  have,  all  the  way  through  life,  a  tender  sense  of  thine  inter- 
est in  us;  that  thy  Spirit  is  working  in  us;  that  we  are  not  left  to  our  own 
reason,  nor  to  the  convoking  of  our  own  judgment  aad  experience.  We  are  by 
thy  good  providence  created,  and  guided;  and  by  thy  grace  we  are  instructed 
and  led.  Grant  that  we  may  have  comfort  in  believing  that  if  in  a  sweet  and 
childlike  spirit  we  submit  ourselves  to  thy  leading,  none  of  us  shall  fail;  that  through 
what  way  soever  we  may  be  carried,  all  ways  shall  end  in  the  blessedness  abovi. 
Grant  that  we  may  see  the  future  more  clearly  than  we  do  the  present,  and  that 
we  may  feel  the  invisible  more  powerfully  than  we  do  the  visible.  Loosen  our  hold 
upon  the  things  of  this  life.  Graut  that  we  may  take  firmer  hold  upon  the  things  of  the 
life  that  is  to  come.  May  we  learn  how  to  set  our  affectious  upon  things  above,  and  not 
upon  things  of  the  earth.  Grunt  that  that  mind  which  was  in  thee  may  be  in  us;  and 
that  we  may  be  filled  with  all  gentleuess,  and  lowliness,  and  humbleness  of  mind. 
Grant  that  we  may  live  not  only  so  as  to  he  ourselves  happy,  but  so  as  to  ditfuse  happi- 
ness on  every  Bide.  May  our  victories  in  our  souls  cheer  others'  conflicts  oi  life.  May 
our  experience  be  a  souice  of  consolation  aud  hope  to  those  who  are  in  a  dubious  way. 
May  we  be  film,  not  for  ouiselvts  aioue,  but  for  those  who  need  some  one  to  guide 
them.  And  wo  pray  that  we  may  commuue  together  as  wo  travel,  in  psalms,  in  hymns, 
in  spiritual  songs,  in  sweet  converse  of  the  Lords  goodness  to  us,  and  in  the  hope  of  all 
the  hafipiuess  that  is  to  come.  May  we  cheer  the  wilderness,  and,  though  pilgrims,  re- 
joice in  the  great  goodness  and  mercy  of  our  God. 

And  now,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt,  this  morning,  suit  thy  kindness  to  the 
circumstances  of  all  that  are  gathered  here.  Thou  lookest  within  ;  aud  that  which 
is  shut  to  every  outward  eye  is  seen  of  thee— all  sorrows,  all  fears,  all  sadness  of 
heart.  Bi- pleased  to  draw  near  to  those  who  need  thee  to-day.  Bo  light  to  them  that 
arc  in  daikufss;  be  comfort  to  those  tLat  are  in  despondency.  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord, 
what  are  the  wrestlings  of  the  afl'eetion  of  parents  iu  behalf  of  childien,  of  ehildron  in 
behalf  of  parents,  and  of  frifuds  lor  friends.  Holy  are  these  conflicts,  incited  by  taee, 
and  full  of  di.siniercst(dne<s.  More  like  thyself  are  we  when  we  strive,  bearing  e&ch 
others"  burdens  lor  one  another's  welfare,  than  iu  any  estate  that  this  world  knows. 


330  COMING  TO  ONE'S  SELF. 

Grant,  then,  that  all  those  who  are  troubled  for  others,  may  to-day  find  thy  presence, 
the  restfulness  of  thy  Spirit,  its  strength,  and  its  wisdom.  May  none,  beariug  their 
children  in  their  arms  to  thee,  go  away  saying,  My  Lord  hath  forgotten  to  be  gracious. 
Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  those  who  are  almost  desponding,  who  have  watched, 
and  labored,  and  waited,  and  seen  no  answer,  may  take  fresh  hope,  and  be  able  to  say, 
Though  he  slay  mo,  yet  will  I  trust  him.  To  whom  shall  they  come  but  unto  thee?  O 
Lord  Jesus!  may  they  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee.  To  thee  may  they  come,  and 
there  may  they  abide.  And  believing  thy  promises,  may  they  never  cease,  while  life 
and  breath  shall  last,  to  trust  in  thee. 

"We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  draw  back  any  that  are  wandering,  and  reclaim 
them  to  better  thoughts.  And  grant  that  to  those  that  have  been  defiled,  and  are  car- 
ried away  from  themselves,  and  away  from  honor  and  integrity,  the  way  of  return  may 
not  bo  made  precipitous.  Grant  that  we  may  remember  those  who  are  out  of  the  way, 
even  as  thou  didst;  and  that  we  may  in  our  measure  become  merciful  priests  unto  them, 
even  as  thou  didst  become  a  high  priest  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  and 
giving  thyself  for  us,  that  we  might  be  brought  back  to  thee.  May  we  not  forget  the 
lesson.    May  we  seek  to  use  all  the  force  of  life  for  the  welfare  of  those  around  about  us. 

Be  near  to  all  those  whose  trouble  is  with  themselves;  who  have  conflicts  with  their 
passions,  with  their  stormy  tempers,  with  their  obdurate  pride;  who  know  the  better 
way,  and  seek  to  cover  mountain  sides  where  rocks  are  with  the  sweet  growths  of  char- 
ity. Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord,  that  they  may  have  faith  ministered  to  them; 
that  they  may  have  strength  given  to  them,  and  above  all  things,  divine  influence — the 
indwelling  of  thy  Spirit— that  shall  calm  them.  Thou  that  couldst  quiet  the  storm — 
canst  thou  not  quiet  the  unruly  passions  of  the  unrestful  heart?  We  beseech  of  thee 
that  thou  wilt  help  every  one  that  sees  but  a  little,  to  keep  the  glimmer  in  his  eye,  and 
never  look  away,  nor  lose  the  guiding  light. 

Draw  near  to  those  who  know  themselves  to  be  castaways,  and  fain  would  return, 
but  are  appalled  at  the  greatness  of  the  way,  and  of  the  ditficulties  to  be  overcome.  O 
thou  that  didst  give  faith,  comfort  and  cheer  them,  that  they  may  have  strengih  to  take 
hold  upon  it.  There  is  no  help  in  themselves;  they  cannot  rescue  themselves;  but  thou 
canst  be  a  deliverer  to  them,  and  thou  canst  bring  them  back.  If  they  cannot  them- 
selves walk,  thou  canst,  with  everlasting  strength,  take  them  in  thine  arms,  and  bring 
them  back;  and  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  do  it. 

Are  there  not  unanswered  prayers  ?  Are  there  not  multitudes  of  prayers  laid  up, 
that  yet  shall  break  with  blessings  upon  the  heads  of  children,  and  those  that  are  out  of 
the  way? 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  teach  us  to  be  more  tender-hearted  one  toward 
another,  in  honor  preferring  one  another.  Grant  that  we  may  set  such  examples  before 
men  in  all  things  that  they  shall  learn  to  love  thee,  and  to  gloiify  thy  name. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  spread  the  truth  through  all  the  community;  that 
thou  wilt  teach  men  to  love  evil  less;  to  delight  less  in  the  report  of  evil.  Oh  I  grant 
that  men  may  rise  up  higher  into  honor,  and  love  the  things  that  are  pure  and  noble,  and 
just,  and  true,  and  right.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  help  us  to  take  stumbling-blocks 
out  of  each  other's  way,  and  put  none  therein.  And  may  wo  all  labor  to  make  the  Lord's 
highway  a  way  prepared  for  tho  ransomed  of  the  Lord  to  return  thereon,  and  come  to 
Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  head. 

And  when  we  shall  have  served  thee  according  to  thy  righteous  will,  when  we  shall 
have  fulfilled  all  the  duty  that  is  apportioned  to  us  in  our  feeble  and  limited  life,  grant 
that  we  may  come  to  the  hour  of  death  with  more  joy  than  that  with  which  children  seek 
their  couch  at  night.  Grant  that  death  may  have  no  fears.  Miiy  the  night  thereof  come 
Hill  of  stars;  and  may  we  discern  the  moining  just  beyond,  and  hear  tho  voices  that  call 
— even  the  voices  of  tho  Spirit  and  the  Bride— saying,  (Jome.  And  departing  from  this 
mortal  sphere  aad  all  its  imperfections,  grant  that  we  may  rise,  in  the  glory  of  tho  divine 
image,  to  claim  our  place,  and  bo  claimed,  with  tho  blessed  welcome.  Good  and  tuiihful 
■OkVants  enter  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  tho  praise,  Father,  Son  and  Spirit,  evermore.    Amen. 


XXI. 

Fragments  of  Instruction. 


FPtAGMENTS  OE  INSTRUCTIOI. 


"  Whon  thoy  were  filled,  he  said  unto  Ms  disciples,  Gather  the  fragments  that  remain,  that 
nothing  be  lost.' — Jno.  VI.  12. 


This  is  a  part  of  one  of  those  miracles  of  the  Master,  by  which, 
upon  occasion,  when  the  multitude  lacked  food  and  were  faint,  he  mul- 
tiplied the  loaf  in  a  marvelous  way,  and  gave  to  the  necessities  of  them 
all.  When  they  had  all  fed,  and  were  set,  he  directed  his  disciples  to 
gather  up  the  fragments  ;  and  for  this  reason — "  that  nothing  be  lost." 
They  took  up  "  twelve  baskets"  full.  The  word  in  the  origina  1  sig- 
nifies that  kind  of  basket  in  which  the  Jews  were  accustomed  to  carry 
with  them  their  provision.  For  the  Jews,  in  traveling,  for  fear  that 
they  would  be  defiled  in  passing  through  peoples  or  nations  that  were 
not  sanctified,  took  theu'  provision  with  them  in  little  baskets.  So 
they  were  not  very  large.  And  the  multiplication  of  the  loaf  was  staid 
very  nearly  at  the  point  at  which  the  appetite  of  the  multitude  was 
staid.  Yet,  there  was  a  little  left;  and  that  little  was  to  be  gathered 
up,  that  nothing  should  be  thrown  away  or  lost. 

I  might,  from  this,  discourse  upon  the  propriety  of  economy  and 
frugality ;  though  that  is  not  my  purpose  to-night,  excej^t  inciden- 
tally. It  is  strictly  in  the  line  of  this,  to  spiritualize  it,  and  to  gather 
up  the  fragments  of  truth,  which  is  everywhere  represented  as  bread 
upon  which  the  soul  feeds. 

In  the  administration  of  the  Gospel  the  minister  is  obliged  to  preach 
upon  many  stately  topics,  to  discuss  many  wide-reaching  principles,  to 
bring  forward  doctrines  in  their  more  important  applications  both  to 
the  life  within  and  to  external  duties.  There  are  certain  massive 
themes  upon  which  he  dwells,  and  dwells  fitly.  There  are,  however,  a 
great  many  fragments,  any  one  of  which,  perhaps,  is  not  large  enough 
for  a  whole  discourse,  but  which  ought  not  to  be  lost — a  great  many 
themes ;  a  great  many  truths ;  a  great  many  minor  applications  of 
truths ;  and  it  is  to  gather  up  some  of  these  that  I  shall  speak  familiarly 
to  you  to-night,  as  I  have  on  not  a  few  occasions  before,  addressing 
ray  remarks  particularly  to  the  young. 

Sunday  Evening,  Jan.  23,  1870.  Lesson:  Eccl.  XTT.  Hthnb  (Plymouth  Collection)  Nos. 
246,  865,  13o3. 


332  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION. 

There  are  a  gi-eat  many  themes  which  ought  to  be  taught  the  young 
in  the  family,  and  which  are  better  taught  in  every  Christian  and  well- 
ordered  family,  because  there  they  are  not  only  taught,  but  enforced 
by  drill — and  all  teaching  should  have  drill  accompanying  it,  if  possi- 
ble. Above  all  other  places,  the  Christian  household  is  a  comprehensive 
school,  and  it  is  a  school  that  teaches  that  which  only  love  can  best 
teach,  and  which  a  mother  and  a  father,  above  all  others,  have  the 
patience  to  teach,  without  reproach,  without  weariness,  and  without  any 
other  reward  than  the  well-doing  of  the  j^uptl. 

If  the  family  does  not  teach  the  things  of  which  I  shall  speak,  then 
the  school  should.  But  we  are  peculiarly  situated  in  this  congregation. 
There  are  in  these  cities  thousands  (and  of  these  thousands  hundreds 
come  here  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath)  for  whom  there  is  no  parents' 
voice ;  who  are  thrown  out  of  the  family ;  many  of  whom  never  were 
blessed  with  a  Christian-bousehold  instruction ;  many  of  whom  have 
long  since  left  the  parental  roof.  And  never  have  they  derived  muuh 
ethical  instruction  from  schools.  The  merest  rudiments  of  learning — 
and  those  perhaps  in  the  harshest  and  severest  way — have  they  re- 
ceived. There  are  hundreds  that  come  within  the  sound  of  my  voice 
every  year  who  really  have  had  nobody  to  befriend  them,  and  to  say 
to  them  what  a  parent  should  say,  or  what  a  kijid  and  aifectionate 
tej^cher  should  say.  And  though  nobody  can  make  n^  the  deficiency, 
a  pastor  may  do  something  toward  it.  It  is  my  wish,  therefore,  to- 
night, to  introduce  some  topics  which  should  be  taught  in  the  family, 
or  in  the  school,  but  which,  perhaps,  may  be  somewhat  taught  Here — 
at  least  so  far  as  to  be  better  than  nothing. 

Let  me  remind  you,  before  proceeding  furtlier,  that  manhood  is  the 
supreme  end  of  our  life.  It  has  often  been  the  theme  on  which  I  have 
dwelt,  that  we  are  not,  in  this  world,  so  much  to  seek  honor  and 
wealth,  as,  by  the  acquisition  of  these  things,  to  seek  an  end  beyond 
them — namely,  a  large  and  true  manhood.  Considered  even  in  its 
secular  relations,  that  is  the  most  important  end  of  life ;  and  considered 
in  its  spiritual  and  eternal  relations,  it  is  the  great  end  which  we  ai'e  to 
seek.  Whatever  may  be  the  methods  by  which  we  are  developing  our 
duty  and  our  life,  the  thing  which  we  should  have  ultimately  in  view, 
is  manhood  in  Christ  Jesus. 

This  must  be  chiefly  the  result  of  what  you  do  in  early  life.  The 
habits  which  you  form  ;  the  opinions  which  you  embrace ;  the  societ.v 
into  which  you  throw  yourself ;  the  tastes  which  grow  up  in  you — 
these  will  modify  your  whole  life,  and  probably  Avill  control  it.  For 
youth  is,  in  the  economy  of  providence,  that  plastic  p'?riod  in  which 
everything  takes  shape  easily,  and  then  sets.  As  it  is  with  lime  tJiat 
is  meant  to  be  set  in  water,  or  as  it  is  with  plaster  of  Pari?  \t^hich  is 


FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION.  335 

and  that  expense.  They  are  led  on  from  one  thing  to  another,  till 
by-and-by  poverty  goads  them  to  dishonesty,  and  they  betake  them- 
selves to  dishonest  ways  of  obtaining  money.  It  is  the  shame  of 
living  accoi'ding  to  then*  means  ;  it  is  the  shame  of  living  poorly  while 
they  are  poor,  and  waiting  for  a  better  day  when  they  shall  come  to 
thrift  legitimately,  by  their  own  fertility  and  industry — it  is  this  that 
has  "wrecked  and  ruined  thousands  and  thousands  of  young  men. 

Frugality  is  a  beautiful  quality.  It  is  a  quality  of  which,  in  itself 
considered,  no  man  needs  to  be  ashamed.  And  I  think  that  abroad 
they  understand  these  things  better  than  we  do.  I  have  observed  many 
respects  in  which  things  are  better  abroad  than  at  home — although  it 
is  not  the  fashion  to  think  so.  For  instance,  there  men  are  more  wil- 
ling to  live  according  to  that  which  they  really  have  than  they  are  here. 
They  are  less  disposed  to  make  a  show  than  men  are  among  us.  Here, 
where  men  are  on  a  democratic  equality,  they  think  that  if  they  do  not 
live  as  well  as  everybody  else  does  that  moves  in  the  circle  to  which 
they  belong,  they  are  thrown  out,  or  throAvn  down.  They  do  not  con- 
ceive that  a  man's  manhood  depends  on  his  inside  and  not  his  outside 
life. 

Keep  within  yoiir  means  if  you  starve.  You  had  better  go  out  of 
life  by  starvation,  than  stay  in  it  and  maintain  yourself  by  dishonest  or 
indirect  methods.  Live  within  your  means.  If  you  are  young,  and 
healthy,  and  hearty,  make  two  things  a  matter  of  pride :  first,  that  you 
will  not  live,  from  month  to  month,  one  farthing  in  debt ;  and  second, 
that  if  you  can  only  lay  up  one  single  shilling  during  the  year,  at  the 
end  of  the  year  you  will  be  one  shilling  better  oflf  than  you  were  at  the 
beginning. 

This  is  a  veiy  singular  thing  to  be  talking  about  in  the  pulpit,  is  it 
not?  And  yet,  a  young  man  that  undertakes  to  follow  these  directions 
will  do  more  for  his  morals  than  I  can  explain  to  you  to-night.  For, 
where  a  man  practices  frugality  and  economy,  and  attempts  to  regulate 
his  life  on  such  a  glorious  pattern  as  that,  consider  what  self-denial, 
Avhat  courage,  and  what  independence  in  the  midst  of  taunting  associ- 
ates, it  will  require. 

Do  you  say  that  these  are  virtues  of  the  lower  order  ?  Yes,  they 
may  be  virtues  of  the  lower  order ;  and  yet,  no  man  can  practice  them 
under  circumstances  such  as  I  have  been  describing  without  being  de- 
veloped in  the  higlier  graces.  How  patience,  how  ingenuity,  how  in- 
dustry and  foresight,  how  all  the  manly  graces,  are  developed  through 
stubborn  independence  and  a  wise  frugality  on  the  part  of  the  youno- 
when  they  are  beginning  life  ! 

There  is  no  greater  i)leasure  than  for  a  man  to  know  that  he  is  inde- 
pendent.    And  it  does  not  require  wealth  to  enable  a  man  to  feel  so. 


336  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION. 

"When  a  man  feels,  "  I  am  neither  rich  nor  very  poor,  and  I  have  the 
art  of  living  within  my  means,"  he  is  a  prince.  The  satisfaction  and 
hai^piness  of  that  feeling  are  immeasurable.  And  the  attempt  to  live 
in  a  contrary  way  opens  the  door  to  temptations  that  very  few  are  able 
to  resist.  The  mere  attempt  to  acquire  a  fortune  will  tend  to  drift  one 
into  gross  materialism.  If  that  were  the  only  object  of  yom*  life,  it 
would  very  likely  make  you  stingy  by-and-by.  Excessive  frugality 
would  work  into  something  else.  It  would  lay  a  temptation  on  you  to 
amass  means.  And  the  tendency  of  this  temptation  would  be  to  gain 
more  and  more  strength. 

But  remember,  while  you  are  practicing  economy  in  life,  that  this 
is  only  a  lower  form  of  manhood,  and  that  you  must  go  on  beyond 
it.  Remember  that  your  hajjpiness  is  to  spring  from  the  qualities  of 
vour  own  minds  and  hearts,  and  not  from  the  external  conditions 
which  you  keep  up,  important  as  these  are,  as  moral  di-ill-masters. 

Next,  you  must  secxire,  as  you  go,  your  own  education.     One  man 

-  //        cannot  educate  another  man.     Every  man  must  educate  himself     The 

school  gives  him  a  chance  ;  books  give  him  a  chance;  teachers  facilitate 

and  help  ;  but,  after  all,  the  man  is  schoolmaster  as  well  as  scholar.    He 

is  both  pupil  and  teacher. 

Many  men  are  said  to  be  self-taught.  No  man  was  ever  taught  in 
any  other  way.  Do  you  suppose  a  man  is  a  bucket  to  be  hung  on  the 
well  of  knowledge  and  pumped  full?  Man  is  a  creature  that  learns 
by  the  exertion  of  his  own  faculties.  There  are  aids  to  learning,  of 
various  kinds;  but  no  matter  how  many  of  these  aids  a  man  may  be 
sm-rounded  by,  after  all, the  learning  is  that  which  he  himself  acquires. 
And  whether  he  is  in  college  or  out  of  college,  in  school  or  out  of 
school,  every  man  must  educate  himself  And  in  our  times  and  om- 
community  every  man  has  the  means  of  doing  it. 

To  begin  at  the  lowest,  many  of  you  will  be  workers — not  brain- 
workei'S,  but  hand-workers.  You  will  be  called  to  earn  a  livelihood 
by  manual  labor.  You  need  not  be  ashamed  of  it ;  but,  after  all,  a 
man  ought  not  to  work  with  his  hands  alone.  He  may  begin  in  that 
way ;  but  every  man's  hand  ought  to  be  taught  to  think ;  and  every 
year  he  ought  to  work  more  with  his  head,  and  less  with  his  hand.  I 
do  not  blame  any  man  for  being  a  day-laborer,  or  a  menial  laborer ;  but 
I  do  blame  a  man  when  he  is  content  to  labor  with  his  hand,  and  never 
aspires  to  anything  beyond  that — never  makes  that  hand  fuller,  more 
industrious,  more  capable.  Every  young  man  who  begins  to  work 
with  his  hand  should  put  brains  in  the  palm  of  that  hand,  and  educate 
it,  so  that  it  shall  become  more  and  more  potential.  For,  in  this  wo)-ld, 
after  all,  that  which  ranks  men  is  the  brain  that  they  have,  the  kind  of 
brain  that  they  have,  and  the  power  which  they  have  in   that  brain. 


FBAOMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION.  337 

And  every  yeai*  one  should  educate  himself  not  only  by  drill  and  skill 
of  hand,  but  also  by  the  acquisition  of  ideas.  Every  year  one  should 
read  more,  and  every  year  one  should  learn  and  do  more. 

Here  is  a  very  great  fault,  my  young  friends,  with  you.  I  do  not 
blame  you  that  you  are  jovial.  You  ought  to  be  jovial.  I  do  not 
blame  you  that  you  love  pleasure.  Pleasure  is  right  if  it  be  rational. 
It  may  be  a  moral  excellence.  I  do  not  blame  you  that  you  are  chatty 
and  gay,  and  that  you  spend  your  time  with  great  delight  in  youth. 
Youth  is  a  time  for  enjoyment.  I  sympathize  with  all  these  things. 
But  I  do  blame  you  that  you  live  for  these.  I  blame  you  that  they  are 
all  you  think  about.  If  they  were  for  the  intervals  ;  if  they  were,  so 
to  speak,  the  cushions  that  you  put  between  the  hard  bones  of  duty  ; 
if  they  were  relaxations,  none  more  than  I  would  praise  you.  But  I 
am  ashamed  to  see  young  men  and  maidens  who  s^^end  their  whole  life 
in  foolish  garrulity,  or  in  endlessly  running  after  mere  pleasure,  or  in 
courses  that  have  not  one  single  particle  of  upbuilding  in  them. 

Consider  what  you  ought  to  know.  Every  man,  in  this  time  of 
the  world,  and  in  this  country,  ought  to  have  some  general  knowledge 
about  his  own  body  and  mind.  It  is  simply  a  disgrace  for  a  man  tc 
live  forty  or  fifty  or  sixty  years  and  know  nothing  about  his  heart : 
nothing  about  his  lungs;  nothing  about  his  brain;  nothing  about  the 
laws  of  health  ;  nothing  about  the  effect  upon  his  physical  constitution 
of  labor  and  rest  and  sleep.  It  is  a  matter  that  intimately  concerns 
your  whole  prosperity.  The  means  of  knowledge  are  abundant  and 
within  the  reach  of  all,  now,  and  no  man  can  be  excused  for  being 
ignorant  of  that  which  concerns  every  one,  as  to  how  he  himself  is 
made,  and  what  are  the  laws  that  regulate  the  mind  and  body.  It  used 
to  be  thought  that  these  things  were  to  be  known  only  by  physicians 
and  ministers  and  lawyers,  and  jDerhaps  a  few  others  ;  but  in  this  demo- 
cratic age  knowledge  on  these  subjects  is  accessible  to  all,  and  should 
be  possessed  by  all. 

Every  man  ought  to  know  something  of  the  structure  of  the  earth 
on  which  he  dwells,  and  the  laws  that  relate  to  it.  It  is  ignoble  in  our 
time  to  be  ignorant  of  these  things.  It  is  not  a  shame  tliat  a  man  is 
poor ;  but  if  a  man  has  been  rich  twenty-five  or  tlmty  years,  and  has 
extensive  libraries,  private  or  public,  and  numerous  magazines,  full  of 
knowledge,  and  knows  nothing  of  the  physical  globe  on  which  he 
dwells,  and  nothing  of  its  laws,  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  that. 

You  ought  to  know  something  of  the  civil  polity  of  j'our  own 
country  ;  something  of  its  history  ;  sometliing  of  its  economies.  You 
ought  to  know  something  of  its  geography,  its  productions,  and  its 
climate.  All  these  things  intimately  concern  you,  and  ought  to  concern 
jour  self-respect.     Every  one  of  you  ought  to  be  so  well  informed  on 


338  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION. 

these  subjects  that  a  foreigner,  coming  here,  and  falling  in  Math  you, 
would  be  able  to  derive  from  you  a  considerably  clear  and  full  knowl- 
edge respecting  matters  pertaining  to  your  country.  How  many  of 
you  could  give  him  the  information  ?  How  many  of  you  know  much 
about  the  early  settlement  of  this  country  ?  How  many  of  you  know 
about  the  immigrations  that  have  taken  place,  and  about  the  classes  of 
immigrants  that  there  have  been  ?  How  many  of  you  can  tell  the 
causes  of  the  great  Revolutionary  struggle,  or  the  principles  that  were 
involved  in  that  struggle,  or  its  principal  featm-es?  How  many  of  you 
can  give  anything  like  a  consecutive  history  of  the  events  that  have 
taken  place  in  the  country  from  that  time  to  this  ?  How  many  of  you 
can  take  up  the  distinctive  American  ideas  and  doctrines,  as  distin- 
guished from  monarchical  ideas  and  doctrines  %  How  many  of  you  can 
give  the  geography  of  more  than  perhaps  your  own  State  and  one  or 
two  adjoining  Slates  ?  How  many  of  you  can  give  any  considerable 
idea  of  the  climate  North  and  South,  East  and  West  ?  How  many  of 
you  can  give  anything  like  a  complete  statement  of  the  productions 
of  this  great  country  ?  Yet  it  is  your  country,  and  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  not  to  be  more  or  less  acquainted  with  these  things.  They 
belong  to  general  knowledge  ;  and  they  ought  to  be  to  some  extent 
familiar  to  every  young  man,  not  only,  but  to  every  young  maiden. 
For  it  is  a  part  of  woman's  rights  to  be  intelligent.  That  which 
joung  men  ought  to  know,  young  women  ought  to  know ;  and  that 
which  a  young  woman  ought  not  to  know,  a  young  man  ought  not  to 
know. 

We  ought  to  be  acquainted,  not  alone  with  our  own  country,  but, 
in  some  measure,  with  other  countries.  If  we  would  well  understand 
our  own  land,  we  must  have  some  points  of  comparison  between  it  and 
other  lands.  We  ought  to  understand  not  only  the  history  of  our  own 
race,  but  the  history  of  mankind.  The  great  national  peculiarities  ; 
the  principal  epochs  of  civilization  ;  the  important  features  of  history, 
we  ought  to  be  familiar  with.  And  these  things  are  easily  learned. 
They  require  but  comparatively  little  study,  so  have  the  facilities  multi- 
plied in  these  respects. 

We  ought  to  understand  the  principal  elements  of  science  ;  for  in 
our  day  science  is  the  substratum  of  life.  We  ought  to  understand  the 
political  economy  of  our  country.  We  ought  to  understand  the  drift 
of  the  events  of  the  day  in  which  we  live.  All  these  things  are  within 
the  reach  of  the  young,  if  they  are  only  hungry  for  knowledge  ;  and 
if  they  do  not  know  these  things,  it  is  because  they  prefer  other  things. 
See  how  eagerly  they  betake  themselves  to  the  most  frivolous  reading, 
if  they  read  at  all. 

A  busy  man  has  a  right  to  anuisement,  and  nobody  else  has.     A 


FRA0MENT8  OF  INSTRUCTION.  339 

very  earnest,  intense,  sober  man  has  a  right  to  wit  and  mirth.  That  is 
his  privilege.  But  a  man  that  twitters  and  lauglis  all  the  time  is  a  fool. 
A  man  that  is  bent  on  the  acquisition  of  fact,  and  of  principle,  and  of 
knowledge,  has  a  right  to  unbend,  and  to  read  sporting  papers,  even— 
if  they  are  decent.  And  certainly  funny  papers  are  not  to  be  disal- 
lowed. There  is  much  in  them  that  may  do  a  man  good,  as  a  relaxa^ 
tion — as  an  alternative.  But  it  is  painful  and  sickening  to  see  a  young 
man  who  makes  the  Sunday  morning  journal  his  classics;  who  studies 
all  the  things  he  knows  out  of  a  fifth-class  trashy  newspaper ;  who 
knows  something  about  the  horses  that  run,  something  about  gambling 
saloons,  and  a  good  deal  about  drinking  saloons,  and  a  good  deal  about 
scandal ;  who  reads  papers  that  minister  to  his  morbid  appetites,  to  his 
lower  passions,  to  the  meanest  parts  of  his  nature,  feculent,  dripping, 
reeking  with  things  that  are  low  and  unmanly.  Is  it  not  shameful  for 
a  man  to  give  his  time  to  reading  and  glozing  over  such  contemptible 
stuff?  Ought  not  a  man  to  be  ashamed  to  let  all  the  great  and  noble 
themes  of  true  secular  knowledge  go  past  him  unheeded  and  unex- 
plored, and  spend  his  leisui'e  in  these  miserable  communings  of  miser- 
able men  with  the  most  miserable  parts  of  themselves. 

When  I  go  to  the  libraries  and  ask  what  are  the  books  that  are 
most  drawn  out,  the  information  which  I  receive  is  not,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  creditable  to  the  character  of  the  young.  They  do  not  read  histo- 
ries. They  do  not  read  biographies.  They  do  not  read  travels.  They  do 
not  read  scientific  works.  There  are  fifty  novels  taken  out,  where  there 
is  one  solid  and  substantial  work  drawn.  I  have  not  a  word  to  say 
against  novels.  I  believe  in  them.  I  think  that  if  they  are  good  they 
are  useful.  I  believe  that  they  are  no  more  to  be  disallowed  than  any 
other  part  of  literature.  They  can  be  made  to  serve  the  very  best  ends 
of  economy,  of  virtue  and  morality,  to  say  nothing  of  religion  ;  but  a 
man  who  feeds  on  nothing  but  these — how  miserable  and  wretched  he 
is !  These  are  the  whips  and  syllabubs  of  life.  They  are  not  the  bread 
nor  the  meat.  They  are  the  confections  of  life.  But  ought  a  man  to 
sit  down  and  eat  sugar-plums  for  his  dinner,  and  nothing  but  sugar- 
plums ?  Libraries  are  now  accessible  on  every  side ;  and  I  am  ashamed 
to  see  that  there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  young  men — and  you 
know  who  they  are,  for  many  of  you  are  they — who  almost  never  go 
into  them.  You  have  not  time  ?  You  have  time  for  anything  else 
that  you  are  determined  to  have.  Every  young  man  has  time  to  do 
what  he  wants  to  do.  Where  thei*e  is  a  will  there  is  no  trouble — not 
once  in  a  thousand  times.  The  trouble  is  the  want  of  appetite  ;  the 
want  of  manly  inspiration  ;  the  absence  of  the  feeling  that  ignorance  is 
disgraceful,  not  to  say  criminal.  The  trouble  is  that  you  want  to  live 
in  present  pleasm-e;   because  you  want  to  be  happy  to-day,  to-morrow, 


340  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION. 

and  next  day.     Pleasing  sensations  are  more  to  you  than  substantial 
growth  in  manliness,  in  knowledge,  in  virtue,  and  in  truth. 

But  all  education  does  not  come  from  reading,  important  as  that  is. 
Even  if  you  should  say  that  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  read  (though 
you  can  read  a  great  deal  if  you  desue  to ;  I  do  not  believe  for  a  mo- 
ment that  you  cannot  read :  the  fragments  of  your  time,  if  they  were 
saved,  would  enable  you  to  accomplish  avast  amount  of  reading),  and  if 
it  were  really  impossible,  a  man's  education  might  go  on  without  books 
to  a  very  considerable  extent.  God  gave  men  eyes  that  they  might  see ; 
and  yet  veiy  few  people  see  anything.  I  see  people  who  walk  from  then- 
house  down  to  the  ferry  and  walk  back  again,  every  day,  week  in 
and  week  out,  month  in  and  month  out,  but  who  never  see  anything, 
apjjarently.  The  most  sui-prising  things  are  right  before  them,  and 
never  excite  an  inquiry  or  a  thought  in  tliem,  nor  lead  to  their  acquiiing 
one  particle  of  knowledge.  But  ought  a  man  to  see  the  most  striking 
phenomena  of  weather  and  not  make  some  inquuy  about  it  ?  Ought  a 
man  to  see  the  Northern  Lights  dance  at  night  merely  as  he  would 
look  at  fireworks,  and  go  into  the  house  and  simply  say,  "  Yes,  they 
were  very  fine,  very  fine  ?"  Ought  there  not  to  be  in  you  something 
that  wants  to  know  what  is  the  cause,  what  is  the  theory,  what  is  the 
philosophy  of  these  things  ?  Is  there  nobody  that  you  can  ask  a  ques- 
tion of? 

A  young  man  goes  along  the  street.  There  is  the  curbstone.  All 
he  thinks  is  that  it  is  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk.  But  where  did  tliat 
stone  come  from  ?  Where  is  the  quarry  from  which  it  was  taken  "? 
What  is  the  difference  between  the  kinds  of  stone  used "?  Some  is 
white,  and  some  is  blue.  One  kind  of  stone  is  used  for  jDavements, 
and  other  kinds  for  other  purposes.  What  is  the  difference  between 
them  ?     What  is  the  difierence  between  brick  and  stone  ? 

You  pass  through  one  street  in  which  men  are  laying  pavement  of 
wood.  Where  did  this  wood  come  from?  Why  do  they  use  pine 
rather  than  beech  ?  What  is  the  eifect  of  satm-ating  the  wood  in  asphalt  ? 
You  do  not  know.  The  only  thing  you  observe  is  that  men  are  at 
work  there,  that  they  are  making  a  smooth  road,  and  that  it  smells 
bad  !  Ought  there  not  to  be  some  inquisitiveness,  some  questioning 
about  these  things  ? 

In  another  street  men  are  putting  down  the  Scrimshaw  paA^ement. 
There  is  a  good  deal  for  a  man  to  think  about  in  that — a  good  deal  for 
me  to  think  about,  at  any  rate.  I  like  to  stand  and  watch  the  workmen ; 
and  if  they  are  intelligent,  I  like  to  question  them.  And  an  intelligent 
man  likes  to  be  questioned.  I  never  saw  a  man  that  was  doing  any- 
thing well,  who  was  not  fit  to  be  my  schoolmaster,  and  who  could  not 
tell  me  something  that  I  did  not  know.      And  there  is  nothing  like  an 


FBA  G  ME  NTS  OF  INSTR  UCTION.  341 

ingenious  youth  that  wants  to  learn,  for  asking  questions.  "What  was 
your  tongue  put  into  your  head  for  ?  There  are  two  rules  about  ask- 
ing questions.  Never  ask  a  question  when  you  can  help  it ;  and  never 
avoid  asking  questions  when  you  have  first  tried  to  answer  them  for 
yourself,  and  found  that  you  cannot.  Never  ask  anybody  to  untie  a 
knot  for  you  till  you  have  exhausted  your  power  and  skill  upon  it. 
When  you  have  satisfied  yourself  that  you  cannot  do  it,  then  you  may 
ask  somebody  to  do  it  for  you. 

You  see  men,  after  a  snow-storm,  distributing  salt  on  the  car-track. 
I  say  to  you,  "  What  is  that  for?"  "Why,"  you  say,  "  to  melt  the  snow." 
"  But  how  does  the  salt  melt  the  snow  %"  "  Well — it  melts  it !"  It  is 
certainly  true  that  it  does ;  but  that  is  not  a  very  intelligent  answer. 
Ought  you  not  to  be  able  to  explain  such  a  thing  as  that  ? 

Take  plate  glass.  Where  do  these  magnificent  glasses  come  from 
that  are  four  feet  one  way,  and  six  feet  the  other,  all  in  one  solid  sheet, 
and  so  pure  that  when  you  look  through  them  you  do  not  know  that 
there  is  glass  there  ?  How  is  the  glass  made  %  Is  it  rolled,  or  cast,  or 
blown  ?  What  is  it  made  of?  What  are  the  materials  which  go  into 
the  composition  of  difterent  kinds  of  glass?  In  what  countries  are  they 
most  facile  in  the  manufacture  of  glass  ? 

Take  colors.  What  is  color?  AVhat  is  this  particular  color?  Men 
look  at  it,  and  say,  "  It  is  pretty,  is  it  not?"  That  is  all  they  have  to 
say  about  it.  Is  that  manly?  Does  such  a  course  as  that  command  your 
self-respect  ?  You  smile  ;  and  yet,  when  you  smile  do  not  you  smile 
at  yourselves  ?  Do  not  you  do  the  very  things  which  I  have  been  in- 
veighing against  ? 

I  hold  that  if  a  man  has  eyes,  and  ears,  and  a  tongue,  and  he  chooses, 
he  can  find  out  something  every  day  he  lives.  You  ought  not  to  go 
home  at  night  without  having  learned  something  to  put  down  in  your 
journal,  and  something  worth  knowing.  You  have  had  a  poor  day  if 
you  have  not  reaped  something.  Sometimes  the  fisher  comes  back 
■without  a  fin,  and  the  hunter  without  a  feather;  but  no  man  who  is  a 
hunter  or  fisher  for  knowledge  ought  to  come  back  without  his  pouch 
or  basket  full  every  single  night. 

In  crossing  the  ferry,  I  like  to  stand  by  the  pilot  (whom  I  find  to  be 
very  gentlemanly)  and  talk  with  him ;  and  the  river  is  not  broad 
enough,  and  the  trip  is  not  long  enough,  for  the  information  that  I  can 
gain.  And  I  frequently  go  down  into  the  hull  of  the  boat.  I  would 
not  recommend  you  all  to  take  such  liberties  ;  but  I  find  in  the  engin- 
eer and  in  his  machinery  much  to  interest  and  instruct.  I  could  talk 
with  him  all  day,  or  all  night,  about  the  different  kinds  of  engines  and 
boilers;  about  the  difterent  ])rinciples  on  which  they  oi)erate  ;  about  the 
different  manufacturers ;  about  the  running  of  the  boat  in  winter  and 


342  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTEUCTION. 

summer ;  about  the  life  he  leads  down  there  ;  about  his  way  of  looking 
at  things ;  about  a  thousand  matters  that  he  is  familiar  with,  and  I  am 
not. 

It  is  interesting  to  talk  with  the  deck-man.  How  much  he  can  tell 
you  of  people  that  go  across  the  ferry  at  all  the  hours  of  the  day — of 
those  that  go  earliest  in  the  morning,  and  those  that  go  a  little  later, 
and  those  that  go  still  later !  How  much  he  can  tell  you  of  how  the  dif- 
ferent classes  appear !  There  are  a  multitude  of  questions  that  you  can 
ask  him,  and  as  many  things  that  he  can  lectm'e  you  on,  if  you  have  a 
tongue  to  ask,  and  an  ear  to  hear. 

Life  is  full  of  sources  and  opportunities  for  acquiring  information. 
There  are  facts  concerning  men,  and  animals,  and  vegetable  growths, 
and  manufacturing  processes,  and  economies,  thousands  of  them,  which 
it  is  worth  your  while  to  acquaint  yourself  with.  You  could  draw  out 
volumes  and  volumes  of  these  things  if  you  would  avail  yourself  of  the 
opportunities  which  are  constantly  i:)resented  to  you. 

Not  only  ask  questions,  but  when  you  have  asked  a  question  go  and 
read  about  it.  When  you  have  seen  something  that  has  excited  your 
curiosity,  and  you  have  asked  a  question  about  it  and  got  some  infor- 
mation, and  made  a  minute  of  it,  you  are  in  just  the  right  state  to  go 
to  some  library  where  there  are  encyclopedias,  and  ask  for  what  you 
want.  If  you  do  not  know  what  to  ask  for,  hunt  up  some  man  that 
does,  and  get  him  to  tell  you.  Pm'sue  the  thought  till  you  have  searched 
it  out. 

Do  you  suppose  you  could  follow  such  a  course  as  that  for  five  or 
ten  years  and  not  be  well  educated  ?  It  is  not  necessaiy  that  a  man 
should  go  to  a  college  or  an  academy  to  be  Av^ell  instructed  in  a  thou- 
sand things  that  it  k^  well  for  a  free,  democratic  citizen  of  America  to 
know. 

There  used  to  be  an  impression  that  certain  things  belonged  to  cer- 
tain classes.  That  has  all  passed  away.  One  of  the  peculiar,  though 
unexpected  and  indu'ect,  results  of  democratic  influences,  is  that  pro- 
fessions are  no  longer  close  corporations.  Once  nobody  was  expected 
to  know  about  mechanics  except  the  mechanic,  but  now  everybody  is 
expected  to  know  about  them.  Once  the  doctor  was  the  repository  of 
all  the  knowledge  of  health  and  disease  in  the  community;  but  now  every 
well-read  householder  ought  to  have  a  general  knowledge  of  medicine. 
Once  the  lawyer  knew  all  the  law  that  was  known  ;  but  now  every 
well  instructed  business  man  has  some  considerable  knowledge  of  law 
as  it  relates  to  his  particular  business — and  he  ought  to  have.  Every- 
body has  a  right  to  know  what  anybody  has  a  right  to  know.  You 
have  a  right  to  steal  everybody's  trade,  and  to  pick  everybody's  pockets 
of  knowledge.     You  have  a  riorht  to  know  what  the  doctor  knows. 


FBA  GMENTS  OF  INSTR  UCTION.  343 

You  heave  a  r.glit  to  know  all  that  the  judge  knows — no,  not  all,  but 
whatever  things  nghtfuUy  belong  to  the  profession  of  a  judge !  You 
Lave  a  right  to  know  anything  that  is  becoming  in  a  man  and  a  citizen. 

This  leads  me  to  say  a  word  in  respect  to  the  company  which  men 
keep.  You  often  hear  men  speak  of  bad  company ;  and  you  are 
often  warned  against  bad  comi:)auy ;  but  there  is  a  shade  of  thought 
diifercnt  from  that  which  I  wish  to  urge  upon  you  ;  namely,  tliat 
while  you  do  not  attempt  to  get  into  company  above  your  station 
in  life,  you  should  not  let  your  vanity  lead  you  to  select  inferiors  for 
your  companions,  so  that  you  can  shine  upon  them.  Pick  your  com- 
pany from  among  those  whom  you  are  conscious  are  superior  to  you, 
and  that  can  teach  you  something.  It  may  perhaps  pique  you  to 
be  obliged  to  feel  every  day  how  inferior  you  are ;  but  it  will  serve 
manliness  in  an  eminent  degree.  Therefore  let  your  friend  be  half  a 
liead  taller  than  you  are.  Learn  to  look  up  for  your  company,  and 
life  will  go  well  with  you ;  but  if  you  have  to  look  down  for  your 
company,  it  will  go  ill  with  you.  After  all,  it  is  this  unconscious, 
incidental,  sympathetic  communication  between  mind  and  mind  that 
works  most  powerful  changes  in  taste  and  temperament,  and  that 
works  in  the  way  of  knowledge.  There  is  nothing  that  excites  such 
electricity  as  mind  rubbing  on  mind. 

While  pursuing  your  education — and  your  own  thoughts  will  give 
a  larger  expansion  to  this  matter  than  I  have  time  to  give  it  now — re- 
member that  it  is  not  enough  for  you  to  be  educated  simply  in  knowl- 
edge. Because  you  are  a  citizen  of  no  mean  republic,  and  because  you 
are  men,  it  is  right  for  every  one  of  you  to  aim  at  refinement.  By 
refinement  I  understand,  comprehensively,  the  bringing  to  bear  of 
reason  and  the  imagination  upon  qualities  and  things  in  such  a  way 
that  you  see  finer  elements  in  them  than  otherwise  you  would  see ; 
finer  than  your  senses  see ;  finer  than  your  common  reason  sees.  Do 
not  suppose  that  refinement  belongs  to  any  place,  or  to  any  class.  I 
admit  that  a  man  is  better  helped  to  be  refined  if  he  has  the  advantages 
of  refined  society ;  if  he  belongs  to  certain  professions  in  which  re- 
finement is  current ;  or  if  he  has  certain  lines  of  education.  In  other 
words,  there  is  a  greater  facility  for  gaining  refinement  under  these  cir 
cumstances.  But  a  man  is  not  to  be  refined  because  he  is  a  minister, 
nor  because  he  is  a  lawyer,  nor  because  he  is  a  legislator,  nor  because 
he  is  an  artist.  He  is  to  be  refined  because  it  is  good  for  manhood  to 
be  refined.  And  it  is  just  as  good'  for  manhood  at  the  bottom 
as  it  is  for  manhood  at  the  top.  Are  you  a  carpenter  ?  Are  you  a 
mason?  Ai-e  you  a  daylaborer?  Do  you  diive  a  cart?  Do  you 
sweep  the  street  ?  "What  do  you  do  ?  Do  you  dig  ?  Do  you  delve  ? 
You   ought  to  be  refined,  not  because  of  youi-  trade,  but  because  of 


344  FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION. 

yourself.  It  is  your  manhood  that  needs  refinement,  and  you  have  a 
rio-ht  to  it.  It  is  not  a  thing,  thank  God,  in  our  day  and  nation,  that 
can  be  sequestered,  and  become  the  badge  of  any  particular  class.  There 
is  that  inherent  right,  and  there  ought  to  be  that  expectation  and  en- 
deavor clear  down  to  the  bottom  of  society.  It  belongs  to  everybody, 
in  every  calling.  You  may  be  genteel  and  courteous,  you  may  have 
refined  tastes,  you  may  be  a  gentleman,  though  you  are  a  mechanic  ; 
though  you  are  the  lowest  of  lahoreig.  I  see,  not  unfrequently,  as  fine 
specimens  of  gentlemanliness  in  tkd  hanxbler  walks  of  life,  as  I  see  in 
the  higher.  I  have  seen  as  tnia  ma'.iiincss,  and  as  true  ladylikeness,  in 
humble  servants,  as  I  have  seen  any  wnere. 

I  remember  a  poor  colored  man  who  earned  his  livelihood  by  sawing 
wood  from  house  to  house,  and  who  was  a  ■'•eal  gentleman,  Viiginia 
bred.  No  governor  was  e v er  more  truly  polit*^  than  this  poor  old  bio- 
ken-backed  sawyer.  He  was  gentlemanly  in  speech,  in  manner,  in 
gesture,  in  the  whole  atti.nde  of  his  mind,  by  whfch  he  respected  him- 
self, and  sought  to  dea"!  courteously  and  refinedly  with  others.  He 
was  a  gentleman  in  the  crue  sense  of  that  word. 

There  is  no  reason  why  a  man  should  not  be  a  gentleman  if  ho 
stands  at  the  forge,  if  he  stands  in  the  tannery  by  the  vat,  or  if  he 
stands  in  the  shop  by  tJie  tool-bench.  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world 
why  a  man  in  the  low  er  walks  of  life  should  not  be  a  gentleman  in 
manners,  in  speech,  and  in  courtesy  of  thought  and  feeling.  And  I 
long  to  see  the  day  when  it  shall  not  be  deemed  necessary  for  a  man 
to  have  what  is  called  "social  position"  in  order  to  be  refined  and  gen- 
tlemanly. 

In  this  matter,  do  not  overlook  the  imj^ortance  of  good  manners. 
Good  manners  are  not,  of  course,  the  same  as  virtues;  biit  thej'  stand 
very  closely  allied  to  virtues.  There  seems  to  be  with  many  an  im- 
pression that  honesty  and  frankness  require  a  species  of  gruffness  and 
rudeness.  The  young — particularly  those  that  are  less  cultured  than 
they  might  have  been — have  the  impression  that  there  is  a  kind  of 
manliness  in  being  rude  and  blunt.  There  is  not.  It  is  a  misfortune 
for  a  man  to  have  rude  manners,  no  matter  where  he  is  or  who  he  is. 
A  shipmaster  on  the  sea,  or  a  collier  in  the  mine,  is  all  the  better  if  he 
has  courteous  manners — and  he  may  have  them.  It  lies  with  him  to 
possess  them.  Social  harshness  has  nothing  in  it  that  is  beneficial,  in 
any  way  of  looking  at  it.  In  all  things,  remember  that  true  politeness, 
and  the  source  of  true  good  manners,  is  a  Christian,  generous  sym- 
pathy. 

I  think  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  1st  Corinthians  is  the  most 
perfect  description  of  a  gentleman  that  ever  was  written  or  thought  of. 
It  is  Paul's  representation  of  love.     If  you  will  substitute  politeness 


FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION.  345 

for  love,  yon  will  see  that  this  is  so.  Not  that  I  would  reduce  love  to 
politeness ;  but  while  that  cha2)ter,  as  it  stands,  is  the  most  glorious 
chant  that  ever  was  chimed  out  of  the  belfrey  of  inspiration,  it  has  a 
peculiar  significance  in  this  connection  if  we  say  politeness  instead  of 
love. 

"  Politeness  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ;  politeness  envicth  not ;  po- 
liteness vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  im- 
seemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is  not  easily  provoked,  thiuketh  no  p\  il " 
— and  so  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

The  beginning  of  good  manners,  the  beginning  of  politeness,  is 
the  inspiration  of  a  true,  pure,  generous,  lovhig  heart.  And  that  every 
man  ought  to  have.  And  where  a  man  has  that,  it  will  overflow,  and 
show  itself  in  his  countenance,  in  his  manners,  in  his  di'ess,  in  every- 
thing about  him. 

Let  me  say  to  those  whose  way  of  life  calls  them  into  its  harshe" 
relations,  that  it  is  becoming  in  every  young  man  to  cultivate  chivalrv. 
There  is  chivalry  yet  in  the  world,  though  it  does  not  exist  in  the  same 
forms  that  it  once  did.  There  are  opportunities  for  a  man  not  only  to 
have  a  high  bearing,  but  to  become  the  knight  of  the  weak  and  those 
that  are  despoiled.  Young  man,  always  take  the  side  of  tlie  weak.  It 
may  sometimes  subject  you  to  ridicule ;  but,  after  all,  taking  one  thing 
with  another  through  life,  that  man  who  is  all  the  tiuie  looking  to  see 
which  way  the  strong  are  going,  and  going  with  them,  will,  you  may 
depend,  split  upon  a  rock.  If  you  would  be  generous,  bold,  brave,  and 
truly  manly,  side  with  the  weak.  Make  that  the  rule.  There  may  be 
exceptions,  but  you  will  find  them  out. 

What  opportunities  are  there  ?  A  great  many.  You  are  an  appren- 
tice. There  conies  into  the  shop  a  poor  green  country  boy.  The  old 
hands  are  disposed  to  play  tricks  on  him.  He  is  homesick.  They  laugh 
at  him.  He  is  awkw^ard.  They  jeer  him.  They  have  all  manner  of  spoit 
at  his  expense.  They  make  him  very  wTctched.  Take  his  side.  Take 
the  side  of  the  weak.  Take  the  side  of  the  unfriended.  The  brutality 
of  breaking  in  apprentices  in  the  shop  is  only  equalled  by  the  brutality 
of  breaking  in  new  students  in  college.  Some  of  our  colleges,  which 
have  in  them  young  men  that  represent  the  best  families  in  the  country, 
show  what  brutality  there  is  in  human  nature.  In  American  society 
the  grossest  and  most  shameless  outrages  and  indignities  are  perpetrated 
on  those  just  entering  upon  college  life  or  apprentice  life,  that  appeal 
to  every  instinct  of  honor  in  their  elders.  And  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  it.  Every  man  ouglit  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  If  there  is 
anything  that  would  make  my  blood  boil,  and  fight  quick,  and  take 
the  side  of  the  weak,  it  is  such  things  as  that.  I  do  not  counsel  you  to 
fight ;  but  if  you  ever  do  fight,  fight  for  those  that  are  weaker  than 


346  FRAGMENTS  OF  mSTRTICTIOK 

you  are — fight  for  the  woman  ;  fight  for  the  child ;  fight  for  the  poor 
old  man.  No  matter  if  it  is  unpopular,  take  the  weak  side.  Although 
it  may  be  to  your  disadvantage  for  the  hour,  it  will  be  to  your  advan- 
tage in  the  long  run ;  for  it  will  make  you  a  man. 

Do  not  desjjise  etiquette.  There  are  many  who  say,  "  I  believe  in 
kindness ;  I  believe  in  downright  good  manners ;  but  as  to  all  this 
etiquette,  these  French  manners,  and  so  on,  I  do  not  believe  in  them." 
Of  com-se,  etiquette  carried  to  excess  is  not  desirable  ;  but  it  is  not  a 
23aiticular  fault  in  American  society.  With  the  progress,  the  succession, 
of  Ameiican  ideas,  we  are  disposed  to  throw  away  reverence  for  the 
aged,  respect  for  our  superiors,  refinement  of  address.  I  was  struck, 
when  abroad,  with  the  good  manners  which  I  saw,  and  could  not  help 
contrasting  them  with  the  want  of  good  manners  which  I  felt  existed 
in  my  own  country.  There  is  a  frank  American  address ;  but  there  is 
among  us  a  want  of  courtesy  and  consideration.  Life  is  made  a  great 
deal  pleasanter,  intercourse  is  made  a  gi'eat  deal  smoother,  if  men 
observe  the  little  forms  of  propriety  in  life,  which  may  not  mean  a  great 
deal,  but  the  absence  of  which  is  more  felt  than  the  presence  of  it.  It 
is  very  little  to  say  "  Good  morning,"  and  yet,  if  every  time  you  meet 
a  friend  or  a  neighbor  you  look  him  fail*  in  the  face  and  say,  "  Good 
morning,  my  friend,"  if  it  is  morning,  or  "  Good  evening,  my  friend," 
if  it  is  evening,  is  not  the  effect  which  is  produced  very  different  from 
that  which  is  produced  if  when  you  meet  a  man  you  hardly  look  at 
him,  and  j^ass  on  ?  Is  there  not  a  difference  in  his  feeling  ?  Is  there 
no  difference  in  yours  ? 

You  go  into  a  store.  Does  it  make  no  difference  in  the  long  run 
whether  you  think,  "  This  man  is  a  trader,  and  I  came  to  buy,  and  it  is 
his  business  to  give  me  my  money's  worth,"  and  you  say,  "  Here,  have 
you  got  such  an  article,"  and  pay  for  it,  and  go  out ;  or  whether  you 
greet  the  man  courteously,  and  in  a  respectful  way  ask  for  what  you 
want,  and  give  him  the  salutation  as  you  leave  ? 

In  Paris,  when  I  went  into  a  store,  the  proprietor,  who  was  sitting 
as  I  entered,  rose,  and  bowed,  and  bade  me  good  morning.  I  thought 
it  was  probably  some  acquaintance  of  mine  that  I  did  not  recognize. 
I  bowed,  and  waited  for  him  to  talk  to  me,  but  found  that  it  was  only 
the  courtesy  of  the  shop,  and  proceeded  to  make  my  little  purchases. 
I  was  served  with  great  kindness  and  consideration  ;  and  when  I  left, 
all  that  were  in  the  store  bade  me  good  morning.  I  said  to  myself, 
"Singular !  singular !"  and  I  was  ashamed  that  it  did  seem  singular. 

I  am  sure  that  such  are  not  the  manners  of  my  country.  Here  men 
are  frequently  gruff,  indifferent,  and  rude.  Indeed,  they  often  practice 
rudeness,  or  fall  into  habits  of  coarse,  rough  ways,  on  purpose.  And  the 
same  fault  to  some  extent  characterizes  our  cousins  of  Britain.     These 


FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION  347 

things  are  not  well.  They  are  neither  refined  nor  becoraiug.  The 
habit  of  acting  as  though  you  felt  interested  in  other  people's  happi- 
ness, will  by  and  by  make  you  really  feel  interested  in  other  people's 
happiness.  And  there  are  so  few  tilings  which  remain  in  the  form  of 
etiquette,  that  you  cannot  afford  to  despise  and  dispense  with  those 
few.  This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  want  of  respect,  not  only 
for  the  aged  and  for  superiors,  but  for  women. 

"But,"  you  say,  "Ai^ericans  are  celebrated,  the  world  over,  for 
their  respect  for  women."  No,  they  are  not.  Americans  are  famous 
for  their  respect  for  ladies,  but  not  for  women.  If  there  comes  into 
the  cabin  a  very  sweet  and  comely  young  lady,  well  di-essed,  there  are 
a  dozen  persons  who  are  more  than  willing  to  offer  her  a  seat.  If  the 
car  is  crowded,  and  a  stately  maiden  comes  m  and  walks  through,  a 
great  many  men  feel  called  to  offer  her  a  seat,  because  she  is  a  lady. 
But  when  a  poor  Irish  woman,  poorly  clad  and  weary,  walks  through 
the  car  or  the  cabin,  nobody  cares  for  her,  because  she  is  only  a  woman. 
If  it  were  a  lady,  a  seat  would  be  offered  her  at  once. 

Now,  I  say  that  you  ought  to  respect  womanhood.  No  matter 
how  a  woman  looks,  she  is  of  the  same  sex  as  your  mother,  as  your 
sister,  as  your  wife  if  you  are  married,  and  as  your  daughter  if  you 
have  children.  I  feel, to  the  very  depth  of  my  being,  that  womanhood 
itself,  without  regard  to  the  frivolity  of  some,  without  regard  to  the 
stains  of  others,  and  without  regard  to  age,  is  essentially  to  be  re- 
spected, and  that  that  man  is  less  than  a  man  who  does  not  feel  the 
instinct  and  the  sentiment,  and  does  not  act  according  to  it. 

One  word  more.  You  should  cultivate  the  habit  of  unifoira  gener- 
osity in  all  your  intercourse  in  society.  I  do  not  say  that  it  will  bring 
you  a  reward  that  wUl  be  visible,  and  that  you  will  see — though  it  will. 
The  habit  of  taking  care  of  others,  of  having  consideration  for  the  hap- 
piness of  all  that  you  go  with,  is  wholesome.  It  would  be  a  good 
thing  if  eveiy  time  a  young  man  starts  upon  a  journey  he  should  say 
to  himself,  "  I  mean  to  study  to  make  other  people  happy,  from  the 
beginning  of  ray  journey  to  the  end.  I  mean  lo  train  myself  to  im- 
prove every  opportunity  to  do  the  thing  that  is  right  and  proper  for 
other  people,  and  not  for  myself  If  you  had  traveled  as  much  as  I 
have ;  if  you  had  scrambled  as  much  as  I  have  for  seats,  and  for  the 
best  ones — for  bad  manners  are  contagious ;  if  you  had  traveled  as 
much  as  I  have  on  steamboats  and  seen  how  people  that  are  most  dec- 
orous at  home,  when  the  bell  rings,  and  there  are  to  be  two  tables, 
i-ush  through  the  cabins  and  down  stairs  to  then-  meals,  you  could  ap- 
preciate the  necessity  for  a  reform  in  this  matter.  But  I  do  not  think 
you  need  go  to  steamboats  or  railway  depots  to  be  convinced  of  this. 
U"  you  have  been  invited  to  fashionable  parties,  and  seen  what  pigs 


348  FBAGMENTS  OF  IN8TRU0TI0K 

men  make  of  themselves  who  are  well  fed  at  home;  how  they  behave 
at  the  refreshment  table;  how  they  lose  then-  self-respect,  you  do  not 
need  any  fmther  argument  on  this  subject.  It  is  owing  to  a  want  of 
consideration.  It  is  not  that  they  are  so  essentially  selfish.  They  are 
persons  that  at  other  times  really  think  of  other  people's  welfare.  They 
are  persons  that  are  actually  kind  and  generous  in  then*  impulses.  But 
I  observe  that  under  such  circumstances  men  lose  all  their  training, 
and  forget  themselves.  And  it  is  worth  eVery  young  man's  while  to 
begin  life  with  this  thought:  In  all  my  intercourse,  at  home,  in  the 
steamboat,  on  the  cars,  wherever  I  am,  I  will  never  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  it  is  my  business  to  seek  others'  welfare  as  well  as  my  own ; 
to  care  for  others,  and  not  for  myself  alone.  You  will  find  that  it  is 
the  law  of  God  and  humanity.  You  will  find  that  it  is  the  law  of 
growth  in  true  manliness. 

I  have  picked  up  a  few  fragments  of  instruction.  I  believe  that 
there  could  be  more  than  twelve  baskets  full  gathered  of  these  loaves. 

In  closing,  let  me  say,  these  things  are  not  unimportant  in  a  re- 
ligious point  of  view.  All  these  duties  which  I  have  enumerated  im- 
ply self-denial,  forethought,  acting  upon  a  higher  principle  than  mere 
selfishness.  These  are  but  inflections  of  benevolence.  They  are  a 
part  of  the  general  canon,  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all 
thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  And  he  that  is  drilling  him- 
self in  these  minor  particulars,  is  preparing  himself  to  accept  that 
higher  law  in  all  its  fulness.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  he  who  accepts 
that  higher  law,  and  believes  himself  to  have  become  a  Christian, 
cannot  afibrd  to  stand  upon  a  principle.  He  must  cany  it  out  in 
its  details,  and  fill  up  life  with  these  exemplifications  of  this  great 
law  of  love. 

Nowhere  else  is  this  more  beautifully  taught  than  in  that  passage 
which  I  have  read  so  often,  which  I  have  so  often  urged  ujDon  you, 
and  which  I  would  have  you  write  in  large  letters  above  your  desk — 
"  Whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatso- 
ever things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  aa-e  pure,  whatsoever  things 
are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report;  if  there  be  any  vir- 
tue, and  if  there  be  any  jd raise,  think  on  these  things." 

May  God,  by  the  whole  discipline  of  life,  make  you  to  grow  in 
virtue,  in  truth,  in  purity,  and  in  benevolence,  and  bring  you  at  last 
where  yon  shall  need  no  more  instruction,  in  the  perfected  land, 
thi'ough  Clirist,  om'  lledeemea*.     Anten. 


FRAGMENTS  OF  INSTRUCTION.  349 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK 

Ever  needing,  and  ever  supplied  by  thy  abundance,  wo  have  learned  to  loot  up  to 
hee,  O  Lord,  our  God,  in  every  time  of  need.  We  have  learned  to  look  more  ofi  en  in 
thanksgiving  for  mereies  which  descend  before  we  ask  them,  than  in  supplication  for 
mercies  withheld.  For  thou  knowest  what  things  wo  have  need  of  before  we  ask  thee; 
and  thou  dost  delay  only  that  we  may  ask,  and,  asking,  be  blest.  Thou  art  making  our 
benefits  gifts,  and  gifts  of  love;  and  they  come  not  to  our  senses,  to  make  us  selfish,  but 
to  our  honor  and  to  our  heart  to  make  us  full  of  generous  and  filial  love  and  reverence. 
We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  thus  coupled  our  mercies  with  thy  gifts,  so  that  thou  art 
Bovereign;  so  that  we  look  up  for  our  good,  and  not  downward,  and  are  redeemed  from 
the  thrall  aud  from  the  reign  of  the  appetites  aud  the  passions.  Seasoned  are  all  these 
things  with  the  thought  of  God,  and  with  a  humble  dependence  on  thy  power.  For  all 
the  way  in  which  thou  hast  led  us,  for  all  thy  rebukes,  for  our  instruction,  for  our  suffer- 
ing, for  our  hope  and  joy,  for  all  the  blessedness  and  for  all  the  sadness  of  life,  alike,  we 
thank  theo.    This  mingled  mercy  and  discipline  thou  hast  administered  for  our  good. 

Accept  our  confession  of  sin — that  we  have  been  so  slow  to  loam;  so  hard  to  feel;  so 
unwilling  to  change;  so  obdurate  and  worldly,  stumbling  in  a  plain  way;  learning  little 
even  by  our  downfall;  requiring  the  same  treatment  over  and  over  again.  We  have  lain 
heavily  on  thine  hands.  Thou  hast  been  patient  with  the  burden;  but  we  are  ashamed 
that  we  have  been  so  indocile;  that  we  have  been  so  slow  to  learn,  and  slower  to  prac- 
tice that  little  which  we  have  learned. 

And  now  we  desire,  O  Lord  our  God,  to  be  stirred  up  by  thy  Spirit,  and,  for  the 
time  to  come,  to  be  more  apprehensive;  to  be  more  vigilant;  to  be  more  sincerely 
earnest;  to  follow  thee  more  patiently  and  more  in  the  spirit  of  little  children  learning 
from  parent  lips. 

Be  pleased  to  sanctify  to  us  all  the  administrations  of  thy  providence.  Grant  that 
aU  things  may  work  together  for  good  to  us.  May  we  find  ourselves  in  life  filled  with  a 
sense  of  thy  kindness  and  of  thy  mercy,  so  that  from  day  to  day  there  may  bo  some  argu- 
ment of  thanks.  May  our  hearts,  no  longer  selfish  and  proud,  but  rendered  sensitive  to 
the  mercies  of  God,  discern,  even  in  the  darkest  day,  something  for  thanks.  And  may 
this  be  the  spirit  of  our  life.  May  we  constantly  draw  near  to  thee  with  grateful  hearts. 
And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  teach  us,  since  wo  are  pensioners  of  thy  bounty,  to  be  almon- 
ers of  this  joy  which  thou  givest  to  us.  And  grant  that  we  may  distribute  it  to  others. 
Freely  have  we  received;  freely  may  we  give. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  us  in  all  the  relations  of  life — in  our  households; 
in  our  friendships;  as  citizens  in  the  discharge  of  secular  duties.  Going  out  and  coming 
in,  may  we  still  be  in  the  spirit  of  our  Master.  May  we  be  patient.  May  wo  be  faithful 
even  in  litlle  things.  May  wo  learn  to  do  the  will  of  God.  May  wo  live  in  this  life  as 
expectants  of  a  better  life.  May  we  discern  here  the  seeds  and  beginnings  of  eternal 
growths.  And  we  pray  that  we  may  never  be  weary  in  well  doing,  nor,  having  begun  a 
Christian  life,  turn  away  from  it  to  seek  again  the  poor  and  beggarly  elements  of  this 
world. 

Bless  all  those  that  are  teaching  in  our  midst;  all  that  are  in  the  Sobbath  school, 
whether  teachers  or  scholars;  all  that  are  in  Bible  classes;  all  that  go  forth  to  carry  the 
tidings  of  truth  to  those  that  are  in  iniquity.  Inspire  a  benevolent  disposition  in  every 
heart,  and  guide  that  disposition  to  all  acts  of  kindness.  May  we  learn  to  live  together 
with  more  gentleness;  with  more  joy;  with  more  sincere,  unaffected,  and  continuous 
unfoldings  of  the  di?ine  life. 

Aud  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant,  as  we  journey  toward  tho  grave,  that  we  may 
have  assurance  from  day  to  day,  so  tiiat  when  the  hour  comes,  it  shall  not  come  bring- 
ing clouds  and  fears,  but  joy  aud  peace  that  shall  grow  deeper  and  deeper  till  at  last  the 
disquietudes  of  this  world  shall  melt  into  the  everlasting  peace  of  the  world  to  come. 

Aud  we  will  give  the  praise  of  our  salvation  to  the  Father,  tho  Son,  and  the  Spirit 
evermore.    Amen,. 


350  FBAGMENTS  OF  INSTBUCTION. 

PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  -vcord  which  we  haro 
spoken.  Grant  that  it  may  be  a  word  in  season,  awakening  thought,  inspiring  new 
resolution,  and  quickening  endeavor.  Save  the  young  from  themselves;  from  their 
tempters;  from  their  ensnarers.  "We  pray  that  there  may  be  more  and  more  inspiration 
of  truth  and  nobleness  and  courage  and  purity;  more  and  more  desire  for  knowledge; 
more  and  more  industry  in  acquiring  it;  more  fellowship  one  with  another.  May  we 
condescend  to  men  of  low  estate.  May  we  count  others  better  than  ourselves.  May  we 
love  each  other  fervently  and  increasingly  in  all  our  relations  one  to  another.  Grant 
that  we  may  be  quickened  by  thy  divine  Spirit,  not  only  so  that  we  may  bei  n  love  one 
with  another,  but  so  that  all  our  earthly  affections  maybe  sanctified  by  thine.  With 
this  overruling  love  of  God  in  our  hearts,  may  we  be  kept  from  all  iuordinateness  and 
impurity.  And  when  thou  hast  done  with  us  here  below,  bring  us  to  thine  own  pres- 
ence, and  the  joy  of  thine  heavenly  kingdom.  And  we  will  praise  the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Spirit.    J.me» 


XXII. 

The  Substance  of  Christianity. 


INVOCATION. 

Accept  our  song  and  our  rejoicing  at  the  beginning  of  tliis  day.  Accept 
that  inspiration,  O  thou  most  high  !  by  which  we  shall  rise  in  yet  higher  joy 
vtnexpressed — the  hidden  joy  of  the  soul.  Grant  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  the 
light  by  which  we  shall  find  that  truth  which  leads  us  to  thee,  that  coming 
unto  thee  we  may  find  ourselves  recreated  in  Christ  Jesus,  inspired  with 
his  Spirit,  rejoicing  in  his  hopes,  trusting  in  his  promises.  May  we  this  day 
worship  together  in  the  fear  of  God,  in  his  love,  in  fellowship  one  with  an- 
other, with  profit  and  with  rejoicing.  We  ask  it  for  the  Redeemer's  sake. 
Amen. 


/^ 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  ClffilSTIAMTI. 


•' That  Clirist  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith  ;  that  ye,  beinfj  rooted  and  grounded  lA 
lore,  mny  be  able  to  coin|irclienil  with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth  and  lentjth.  and  depth, 
and  lieiHiit ;  and  to  know  the  luve  of  Christ,  that  ye  might  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." — 
El'U.  IJI.  17-19. 


This  is  a  part  of  the  prayer  for  the  Ephesian  disciples  by  Paul. 
How  sublime  it  is!  It  reveals  the  very  interior  of  Paul's  heart,  when 
he  opened  it  to  the  sight  of  God.  Philosophy  never  before  or  since 
Sfjrang  from  such  a  court  as  this.  For  this  is  not  the  gush  of  mere  en- 
thusiasm.   It  is  the  enthusiastic  utterance  of  the  profoundest  philosophy. 

Here  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  Christianity :  That  Christ  may 
dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith.  It  is  the  whole  of  Christianity ;  that 
is  to  say,  it  is  the  Avhole  of  it  in  the  same  way  that  an  acorn  is  the 
whole  of  a  tree.  Out  of  that  seed-form  everything  else  will  develop, 
according  to  that  divine  law  which  is  divinely  included  in  it.  "  That 
Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith ;  that  ye,  being  rooted  and 
grounded  in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend,  with  all  saints,  what  is 
the  breadth,  and  length,  and  depth,  and  height;  and  to  know" — what? 
The  whole  nature  of  God  *?  The  whole  science  of  human  government? 
The  whole  moral  theory  of  the  world  ? — "  and  to  know  the  love  of 
Christ,"  which  passeth  knowledge.  That  is,  no  intellection  can  ever 
follow  the  outgush  of  experience,  and  reproduce  it  in  the  form  of  ideas. 
WliUe  the  intellect  may  interpret  the  experience  of  the  heart,  it  after 
all  stands  afor  oif  from  it,  and  never  can  partake  of  the  experience  itself 
It  passes  knowledge.  "And  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  that  ye  might 
be  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God."  This  is  the  very  supi'eme  of  phil- 
osophy.    It  touches  the  lines  and  foundation  elements  of  Christianity. 

Christianity  differs  fi-om  all  other  religions,  not  in  the  fact  that  it 
commands  a  worship — for  all  do  ;  not  simply  in  the  superior  view 
Avhich  it  gives  of  God  ;  but  by  demanding  a  peculiar  condition  of  heart 
toward  Christ.  Other  religions  demand  reverence,  and  worship,  and 
obedience,  and  uprightness — that  is  all.  Christ  is  said  to  be  "the  end 
of  the  law."  In  other  words,  that  which  the  whole  law  means  is  cum- 
l)rised  in  him.  Therefore  it  is  said,  again,  that  he  is  "  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law" — its  whole  outcome. 

Sunday  Morning,  Feb.  6,  1870.  Lesson:  Era.  in.  nvjiKS  (Plymouth  Collection)  Xos. 
100,  216,  5j1. 


352  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  old  Jewish  law  had  its  secret  spirit ;  but  it  was  hidden  in  a 
vast  system  of  forms.  That  spirit  broke  out  in  Christ  Jesus  in  a  living 
exposition  of  itself. 

In  winter  there  is  scarcely  a  thing  that  is  more  homely  than  an  ap- 
ple-tree ;  but  in  June,  Avhen  it  is  covered  with  blossoms,  is  there  any- 
thing more  exquisite  than  that  same  tree  ?  That  tree  in  winter  is  the 
old  Jewish  law.  Christ  is  the  old  Jewish  law  all  blossomed  and  com- 
ing to  fruit. 

I  always  feel  sad  when  I  think  of  a  modern  Jew,  who  loves  the 
history  of  his  fathers,  and  is  proud  of  the  name  of  Hebrew,  and  clinga 
to  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures.  He  does  not  cling  to  them  any  more 
tightly  than  he  ought  to  ;  but  I  feel  sorry  that  he  cheats  himself  of  the 
right  and  part  and  lot  that  he  has  in  the  New  Testament,  which  is  but 
the  unfolding  of  the  principles  and  truths  of  the  Old  Testament.  The 
Jew  has  as  much  right  to  the  New  Testament  as  we  have.  It  is  the 
property  of  the  Hebrew,  and  is  derived  historically  from  the  faith  of 
the  Hebrews.  Christ  was  a  Hebrew.  The  principles  which  he  enun- 
ciated had  already  been  enunciated  in  the  faith  of  his  fathers.  And  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  Jews  clin^  to  the  seed,  and  will  not  take  the  har- 
vest which  has  grown  from  that  oeed,  when  they  reject  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  Christian  religion  is  not  a  system  of  laws.  It  is  a  state  of  the 
heart.  The  Christian  religion  is  not  a  philosophy  of  truth  as  it  relates 
to  man's  nature  and  duty.  It  is  a  soul -life.  It  is  not  an  inventory 
of  truths  as  they  existed  before  man  came  into  the  world,  and  will  ex- 
ist after  he  passes  away.  The  Christian  religion,  in  respect  to  each 
particular  man  who  believes  in  it,  is  a  state  of  facts  in  his  own  con- 
sciousness. Christ  in  a  man — that  is  the  Christian  religion.  It  is 
Christ  dwelling  by  love  in  his  heart,  or  dwelling  in  his  heart  by  faith. 
Out  of  this  will  grow  many  doctrines,  and  many  inferences :  but  it  is 
the  seminal  form,  the  germinarit  element,  in  Christianity.  It  is  the 
personal  relationship  of  the  individual  heart  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
as  its  supreme  Head  and  Lovei'.  That  not  only  makes  a  man  a  Chris- 
tian, but  brings  him  into  the  central  point  of  the  Christian  system. 
Everywhere  in  the  New  Testament  this  one  element  stands  forth — 
the  personal  identification  of  the  human  heart  with  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  forms  of  expression  are  as  many  and  as  rich  as  are  the  forms 
which  vegetable  life  takes  on  in  the  tro])ics.  All  the  occupations  of 
life  yield  whatever  they  have  in  them  that  touches  the  heart,  in  figures, 
or  in  svords  (that  are  latent  figures),  to  bring  out  this  idea.  All  the 
habits  of  higher  love,  all  the  analogies  of  susteutation  of  life  in  the 
body  ;  all  civic,  economic,  juridical,  domestic  traits — these  are  borrowed 


TEE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITT.  35 o 

to  expand  and  enforce  this  idea — the  supremacy  of  allegiance  and  of 
love  towai'd  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  light ;  who  is  bread  ;  who 
is  water ;  wlio  is  wine  ;  who  is  meat ;  who  is  the  vine,  we  being  the 
brandies  ;  who  is  the  householder ;  who  is  the  law-giver  ;  who  is  the 
shepherd ;  who  is  the  fiither ;  who  is  the  friend ;  who  is  the  lover ; 
who  is  judge  ;  who  is  leader ;  who  is  God  over  all,  blessed  forever, 
occasionally  mounting  up  out  of  all  these  lower  forms  into  this  highei 
one.  And  whatever  there  is  in  day  or  in  night  that  is  sweet  and  sooth- 
ing and  nourishing  to  domestic  love,  is  sanctified  by  being  transferred 
to  a  higher  function  and  use  in  the  illustration  of  this  noble  experience 
of  the  soul  of  each  individual  man  with  its  head,  Jesus  Christ.  This 
heart-allegiance  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  to  each  one  of  you  all  the 
Christianity  that  you  can  have. 

Outside  of  personal  experience,  Christianity  is  but  a  pale  reflex — a 
lunar  rainbow — watery  and  flxint  colors  produced  by  the  light  which 
the  moon  has  borrowed  from  the  sun,  and  which,  compared  with  celes- 
tial rainbows,  are  scarcely  worth  looking  at.  All  Christianity  which 
does  not  include  personal  experience,  is  but  a  lunar  rainbow.  It  takes 
the  sun  to  make  a  rainbow  that  is  worth  looking  at,  and  that  any  boy 
will  try  to  chase.  All  Christianity  that  lies  outside  of  the  interpreta- 
tion of  personal  experience,  is,  in  common  with  all  religions,  every  one 
of  which  has  in  it  some  particles  of  truth,  defective  in  this  regard. 

There  ai'e  tlu'ce  ways  in  Avhich  the  New  Testament  recognizes 
Christ,  as  represented  to  us  ; — three  instrumentalities  by  which  we  ap- 
prehend him,  and  come  to  a  knowledge  of  him — the  senses,  the  intel- 
lect, and  the  heart. 

Tlie  primitive  disciples  came  to  Christ  by  sight.  That  mode  Avas 
very  much  counted  on  in  their  day,  and  has  been  very  much  longed 
for  since.  We  have,  every  one  of  us,  doubtless,  wished  that  we  might 
once  behold  the  Saviour  in  a  di-eam  that  we  could  believe  to  be  a  rev- 
elatory dream ;  and  still  more  that  we  might  see  him  as  an  angelic 
presence.  To  see  the  Lord  was  considered  among  the  apostles  as  be- 
ing so  important  that  Paul  himself  said,  in  an  argument  to  one  of 
the  churches,  "  Have  I  not  seen  him  ?"  He  was  met  by  the  envies 
and  jealousies  which  prevailed  even  among  the  apostles.  He  was  made 
to  be  inferior  to  the  others  because  he  came  in  afterwards,  and  had 
not  consorted  with  the  Lord  in  companionship ;  and  he  said,  "  Neverthe- 
less, I  saw  him  when  I  was  converted.  When  going  to  Damascus,  did 
he  not  appear  to  me  ?  I  have  seen  Him  as  well  as  the  other  apostles." 
A  great  deal  was  made  of  the  fact  of  having  beheld  tlie  personality 
of  Christ.  It  is  very  grateful ;  but  after  all,  it  does  not  amount  to  as 
much  as  we  are  apt  to  think.  They  that  had  seen  the  Lord  were  not 
iielped  as  mu(!li  as  many  jiersons  who  had  not  seen  him.     The  sqv 


354  TEE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

ereignty  of  Cliristian  experience  was  not  to  be  looked  for  in  the  earlier 
ages.  There  have  been  developments  of  Christ  in  human  life  far  trans- 
cending the  experience  of  the  primitive  church.  In  later  days,  there 
are  many  thousands  who  live  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight.  Blessed  are 
they  who  believe,  not  having  seen — Christ  himself  being  intei-preter  in 
that  matter. 

But  Christ  may  be  presented  to  us  in  a  purely  intellectual  point  of 
view.  There  is  much  in  a  divine  person  which  the  intellect  takes  cog- 
nizance of;  and  if  we  exercise  without  arrogance,  and  within  due 
bounds,  this  capacity  of  intellectual  apprehension,  it  is  an  aid — it  is  an 
imjjortant  guide.  More  than  that,  there  can  be  no  perfect  and  endur- 
ing conception  of  Christ  which  does  not  involve  in  it,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, an  intellectual  element.  It  is  not  the  leading  one  ;  it  ought  not 
to  be  the  prime  one  ;  but  as  an  auxiliary,  the  presentation  of  Chiist  as 
he  can  be  apprehended,  or  as  any  being  can  be  apprehended,  by  the  in- 
tellect, is  of  very  great  importance.  This  intellectual  definiteness  ;  the 
reduction  of  vague  feeling  to  the  form  of  ideas  ;  the  giving  them  some 
sort  of  order  and  proportion  and  emphasis — all  this  is  a  very  impor- 
tant preparation  for  the  heart's  own  work.  It  restrains  feeling  with- 
in its  proper  channels.  The  intellect  exerts  a  salutary  influence  upon 
enthusiasm,  which  attempts  to  burn  itself  to  ashes.  When  rightly 
used,  the  reason  does  not  become  the  rival  and  the  substitute  of  the 
feelings,  but  only  their  educator  and  their  friend.  It  is  the  reason 
which  enlarges  and  enriches  and  directs.  The  understanding  and  the 
feelings  reciprocate.  For  no  man  can  be  well  educated  who  has  not 
in  his  intellect  the  color  and  the  inspiration  and  the  warmth  that  the 
sentiments  and  emotions  give. 

But  the  stress  of  Scripture  is  laid,  not  upon  receiving  Christ  be- 
cause we  have  seen  him,  nor  upon  receiving  him  because  we  under- 
stand him  when  he  is  expounded  to  us,  but  upon  receiving  him  bt/ 
faith.  And  this  is  the  part  of  our  text  which  I  have  emphasized — 
"  7yiat  Christ  mai/  dwell  in  your  hearts  hu  faith."  This  is  the  Pau- 
line aspiration. 

As  Christ  is  not  visible,  he  of  course  must  be  brought  before  us  by 
the  imagination.  We  cannot  love  nothing.  We  cannot  love  vacuity. 
There  must  be  some  conception  of  a  thing  before  we  can  give  our 
hearts  out  toward  it.  And  if  it  is  Christ  that  we  love,  or  wish  to  love, 
there  must  be  some  conception  of  Christ.  This  is  one  mode  of 
faith — namely,  the  power  to  reproduce  that  which  the  senses  ordinarily 
see,  but  without  the  use  of  the  senses.  This  is  the  exact  definition 
that  is  given  to  it  by  the  writer  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  "Faith," 
he  says,  "  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things 
not  seen."     That  power  of  the  mind  by  which  we  bring  definitely  and 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITT.  355 

clearly  before  us  invisible  tmths,  whether  they  be  truths  of  qniility, 
ti'uths  of  person,  or  truths  of  place,  that  power  which  enables  us  to  see 
what  the  senses  cannot  see,  is  one  mode  or  form  of  faith  ;  but  that  is 
not  its  full  Ibrm,  as  tlie  term  is  freely  used.  For  we  find  that  faith  is 
a  generic,  and  that  there  are  specifics  in  it.  Faith  that  loorks  by  love 
is  the  faith  that  saves  the  soul  and  sanctifies  the  life.  The  largest  and 
best  way  of  receiving  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  by  faith,  is  to  take  hira  in 
such  a  sense  that  our  souls  go  out  to  him  in  the  form  of  love.  It  is 
such  a  presentation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  through  the  imagination, 
to  our  minds,  as  draws  forth  toward  him  the  soul's  enthusiasm  and 
secret  life.  It  is  the  personal  allegiance  of  love  to  Christ.  A  percep- 
tion of  his  grandeur  of  nature,  of  his  beauty,  of  his  sympathy  witli 
us,  of  his  supreme  excellence  in  every  part — such  a  perception  that  we 
clasp  him  with  our  feelings,  that  we  put  our  souls  wholly  under  his 
influence — this  is  receiving  Christ  by  the  heart. 

There  are  three  ways,  then,  by  which  Christ  can  be  presented  to 
us:  1.  By  the  senses.  That  we  shall  not  have  again  on  earth.  2.  By 
the  intellect.  That  is  the  presentation  of  Christ  doctrinally  or  theologi- 
cally. 3.  By  the  heart.  That  is  the  reception  of  Christ  by  the  form  of 
an  actual  experience  ;  by  such  a  cooperation  of  the  reason  with  the  imag- 
ination that  we  are  able  to  bring  the  invisible  person  near  to  us,  and  so 
bountifully  reproduce  him,  and  so  beautifully  set  him  forth,  that  he  be- 
comes to  us  the  "  chiefest  among  ten  thousand,"  and  the  "one  altogether 
lovely ; "  so  that  every  sweet  thing  in  us  goes  out  to  him  as  every  dew- 
drop  in  the  sunsnine  evaporates  and  goes  up  toward  the  sun.  This  is 
receiving  Chrisu  by  faith.  It  is  not  the  rejecting  of  the  senses ;  it  is  the 
non-using  of  them,  rather.  It  is  not  the  despising  of  the  reason  ;  it  is 
an  auxiliary  use  of  the  reason.  But  it  is  the  manly  way  of  taking  hold 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  by  the  enthusiasm  of  love,  and  making  him 
the  supreme  object  of  our  desire,  and  of  our  allegiance.  This  is  re- 
ceiving Christ  by  faith;  and  if  we  continue  so  to  receive  him,  then  he 
dwells  in  our  hearts  by  faith — that  is,  by  heart-sanctifying  love. 

This  I  understand  to  be  the  distinctive  peculiarity  of  Christianity, 
not  only,  but  that  without  which  there  cannot  be  any  Christianity. 
There  can  be  no  Christianity  to  the  man  who  doer  not  personally  take 
Christ  by  faith.  There  is  no  substitute  for  this  personal  experience, 
and  there  can  be  no  system  of  Christianity  which  does  not  provide  for 
this  personal  experience,  toward  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

I  remark,  then,  in  view  of  this  exposition,  that, 

1.  Any  system  which  leaves  out  the  central  figure  is  not  Chris- 
tian, and  has  no  right  to  wear  that  name.  It  is  not  enough  for 
any  system  of  truth  which  is  preached,  that  it  thinks  well  of  Christ, 
and  sees  in  llim  many  estimable  traits,  and  regards  Him  as  a  man 


356  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CERISTIAmTY. 

beyond  all  ordinaiy  men,  and  something,  perhaps,  angelic — ^far  np,  it 
may  be,  above  any  other  one  that  ever  lived  on  earth.  It  is  not  enough 
to  say  that  He  revealed  a  higher  ethical  system  than  ever  was  revealed 
before,  or  gave  a  better  basis  for  worship  than  ever  was  given  before. 
This  is  all  well ;  but  it  does  not  constitute  Christianity.  It  does  not 
make  a  Christian  system.  The  thing  that  makes  Christianity  is  the 
teaching  of  Christ  as  the  object  of  supreme  allegiance  to  eveiy  indi- 
vidual heart.  It  is  the  identification  of  the  divine  nature  with  your 
nature.  That  is  the  peculiarity  of  Christianity.  Every  man  is  a  part 
of  God  by  faith  ;  and  Christ  is  that  God  revealed,  possible  to  apprehen- 
sion, brought  into  sympathetic  and  enjoyable  conditions,  so  that  every 
human  understanding  can  get  hold  of  him.  It  is  this  enthusiastic 
identification  of  your  personality  with  God's  in  Christ  Jesus,  that  is 
the  seal,  the  discriminating  test,  of  Christianity.  It  is  not  worship. 
All  things  worship.  It  is  not  obedience.  Obedience  belongs  to  all 
systems.  It  is  this  personal  fusion,  this  use  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
to  identify  him  with  the  experience  of  every  living  man,  that  makes 
men  Christians,  not  only,  but  that  constitutes  the  genius  of  Christianity. 

Now,  how  su])cylativcly,  preposterously  absurd,  is  that  man  who, 
calling  himself  Cliristian,  teaches  a  system  which  derogates,  which  de- 
nies, which  brings  down  and  destroys,  the  personality  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  reducing  Him  to  the  level  of  a  man  !  I  do  not  undertake  to  say 
that  there  is  not  a  point  in  philosophy  where  such  a  question  may  be 
raised ;  but  the  moment  Christ  is  undeified — if  he  is  undeified — that 
very  moment  the  undcifier  ought  to  give  up  the  title  of  Christian.  For 
Christianity  consists  in  such  an  enthusiastic  love  of  the  individual  hu- 
man heart  for  Christ,  that  they  are  unified ;  that  there  is  a  substantial, 
indissoluble  oneness  between  them,  as  there  is  between  the  child  and 
the  parent ;  and  that  it  is  the  cause  of  all  the  after  life  and  action  of  the 
individual  person.  If  that  is  denied,  Christianity  is  denied.  If  Christ 
is  so  expounded  that  such  an  experience  is  impossible,  Christianity  is 
destroyed  in  the  destraction  of  the  very  fundamental  idea  of  Christ. 

What,  then,  shall  we  think  of  Christians  whose  faith  is  that  they 
do  not  believe  in  Christ "?  What  is  a  Christianity  out  of  which  Christ 
is  taken.  If  it  were  possible,  by  a  very  skillful  surgical  operation,  to 
open  the  head  of  a  man,  and  deftly  take  out  his  whole  brain,  and  every 
particle  of  his  nervous  system,  without  destroying  any  other  function, 
and  close  up  the  head,  and  have  life  go  on,  the  man  eating  and  sleeping 
and  walking  and  working,  what  that  body  would  be  compared  with  a 
full  naan,  that  is  Christianity  when  Christ  is  taken  out,  compared  with 
Christianity  when  Christ  is  left  in.  And  many  men  reason  on  this 
subject  in  such  a  way  as  almost  leads  one  to  suspect  that  this  oi^eration 
has  been  performed  on  them  I 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CnRISTIANITT.  357 

I  say  tills  not  in  any  spirit  of  offence.  I  say  it  not  in  any  spiiit  of 
eontrovorsy.  I  simply  take  the  ground  that  there  can  be  nothing  more 
plain  than  the  teaching  in  the  New  Testament,  that  Christianity  con- 
sists in  such  a  view  of  Christ  as  induces  an  enthusiastic  and  personal 
allegiance  to  Him ;  and  that  the  destruction  of  that  personal  allegiance 
to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  the  destruction  of  the  whole,  so  that  there 
is  nothing  left.  Christianity,  when  you  have  taken  that  away,  is  what 
a  tree  is  when  you  have  cut  it  off  by  the  roots. 

To  still  hold  on  to  the  name  under  such  circumstances,  is  cow- 
ardly. It  would  be  still  more  imcharitable  to  say  thaKit  is  stupid.  At 
any  rate,  it  is  either  stupid  or  cowardly.  To  have  destroyed  everything 
in  Christianity  that  makes  it  distinctive ;  to  have  obliterated  its  genius  ; 
to  have  put  the  fire  of  obliteration  on  the  very  point  of  vitality,  and 
burned  it  out ;  and  then  to  go  on  calling  one's  self  a  Christian  for  the 
sake  of  all  the  advantages  which  accrue  from  the  prejudices  of  the  com- 
munity in  favor  of  the  name  of  Christianity — ^that  is  cowardly  or  stupid. 
It  is  far  better  that  a  man  who  is  bound  to  give  up  the  substance  of 
Christianity  should  also  give  up  the  name,  and  take  the  name  of  Theism 
or  Naturalism^  or  any  other  name  that  he  pleases.  But  all  those  that 
believe  in  Christianity  must,  it  seems  to  me,  logically  and  joyfully  go 
back  to  this  one  central  truth,  that  Christ  is  God  over  all,  blessed  for 
ever,  and  that  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ  is  such  a  revelation  as 
makes  it  possible  for  our  hearts  to  rise  up  in  communion  with  Christ, 
and  clasp  him  with  affection  and  fidelity,  and  make  Him  om*  Head  and 
Center,  our  supreme  All,  forever  and  forever.  Christianity  is  the  per- 
mission of  God  to  your  soul,  and  my  soul,  to  take  Christ  as  om*  ever- 
lasting and  adorable  Friend. 

2.  As  the  Christian  system  is  not  held  by  those  who  leave  out  the 
central  figure,  so  every  Christian  system  is  imperfectly  held  by  those 
who  only  hold  it  in  a  philosophical  form.  This  latter  mode  is  far  in 
advance  of  the  former,  which  I  have  just  been  criticising  ;  but  still,  the 
holding  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  speculatively  and  philosophically,  the 
teaching  of  Him  only  technically  and  psychologically  in  this  way,  is 
so  imperfect  a  holding  of  Him  that  it  cannot  for  a  moment  com])are 
with  the  full-orbed  glory  of  Christianity  as  it  is  set  forth  in  the  earliest 
narratives  and  teachings  of  the  New  Testament. 

I  would  not  underrate  the  value  of  an  intellectual  conception  of 
Christ ;  but  I  would  hold  it  as  an  auxiliaiy  and  as  a  guide.  The  intel- 
lect cannot  fulfill  the  conditions  of  Christianity.  It  is  the  heart  by 
which  a  man  nmst  believe  unto  salvation.  It  is  not  Christ  as  analyzed, 
as  stated  in  technical  terms,  that  ever  will  affect  a  man.  I  do  not  deny 
that  it  is  very  important  that  we  should  make  exact  statements.  I 
affirm  that  Christians  ought  to  have  then-  religious  life  reduced,  as  far 


358  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CnBISTIANITY. 

as  possible,  to  an  intellectual  expression.  I  affirm  that  intellechial  ex- 
pressions may,  as  fast  as  the  light  is  given  us,  be  coordinated  a;  id  drawn 
out  into  a  creed,  or  form  of  belief.  Because  creeds  have  been  made 
instruments  of  oppression,  and  because  they  have  been  unwarrantably 
used,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  of  no  value.  There  is  no  man 
that  ever  feels,  and  feels  definitely,  who  does  not  form  a  written  or  an 
unwritten  creed.  Every  man  that  thinks  has  opinions ;  and  if  you  have 
opinions  on  any  subject,  and  they  take  on  any  order,  that  is  a  creed. 
Every  man  has  a  creed  about  his  business.  The  way  he  thinks  his 
business  ought  to  be  conducted  is  his  commercial  creed.  If  he  teaches 
his  son  how  to  do  business,  he  gives  him  a  creed.  If  a  man  belongs 
to  a  political  party  he  has  a  political  creed.  It  is  called  a  "  plat- 
form ;"  but  that  is  only  another  name  for  the  same  thing.  Creeds  are 
intellectual  outlines,  that  are  generally  used,  both  in  politics  and  relig- 
ion, to  deceive  the  mind  with.  Whatever  sphere  a  man  is  in — whether 
he  be  a  navigator,  a  musician,  a  painter,  or  something  else — unless  he 
is  a  mere  enthusiast,  his  feelings,  his  enthusiasms  even,  convert  them- 
selves more  or  less  facilely  into  ideas,  and  those  ideas  take  on  some 
order,  and  become  the  outlines  of  his  oj^inions  and  beliefs.  And  these 
are  his  creed.  Therefore,  in  every  age  of  the  world,  the  human  mind 
has  tended  to  formulate  its  intellectual  beliefs. 

What  I  object  to  is,  the  idea  that  any  creed  can  really  present  to 
the  human  mind  a  clear  and  definite!  conception  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  That  can  be  had  only  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  so  en- 
larging and  inspiring  the  faculties  of  the  soul  that  the  soul  itself  shall 
by  faith  apprehend  him.  Every  man  must  by  the  inflammation  of  his 
own  heart-feelings  find  his  Christ. 

A  creed  is  just  like  a  philosopher's  telescope.  He  sweeps  the  heavens 
to  see  if  he  can  find  the  star  for  which  he  is  searching ;  and  by-and-by 
the  glass  brings  it  to  his  eye.  The  glass  helj^s  him ;  but  it  is  not 
the  glass  that  sees  the  star.  It  is  the  eye  that  does  that.  The 
glass  is  a  mere  instrument  by  which  to  identify  the  star,  and  magnify 
it,  and  bring  it  near,  and  shut  oif  other  things.  A  blind  man  could  not 
see  a  heavenly  body  with  a  telescope,  no  matter  how  powerful  it  might 
be.  A  creed  is  a  philosopher's  telescope  by  which  we  identify  philo- 
sophical truths,  and  magnify  them,  and  bring  them  near ;  but  it  is  the 
heart  that  is  to  apprehend  them.  It  is  the  heart  that  is  to  interpret 
the  things  that  are  marked  out  by  our  creed  or  philosophy. 

There  is  a  great  deal  more  importance  in  this  than  perhaps  many 
are  disposed  to  believe.  It  is  this  indiscriminate  use  of  creeds  that 
perplexes  and  confounds  the  mind  of  the  community  in  times  of  con- 
tioversy;  in  times  such  as  existed  a  few  hundred  years  ago  in  England; 
in  times  such  as  exist  now  in  some  parts  of  Europe.     For  mstance, 


TEE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITT.  359 

wlicre  a  man's  life  depended  on  his  creed,  Christians  were  warriors,  and 
had  business  on  hand.  It  is  only  two  or  three  genei  ations  back,  meas- 
uring by  long-lived  men's  ages,  wlien  to  deny  the  presence  of  the  body 
and  blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  sacrament  was  enough  to  de- 
stroy the  strongest  man,  in  England.  Murder  is  not  so  fatal  a  crime 
in  New  York  to-day  (for  it  is  not  fatal  at  all  to  the  murderer)  as  in 
Oxford  or  Cambridge,  two  hundred  years  ago,  was  the  crime  of  those 
who  believed  in  the  Lord's  Supper  as  you  and  I  believe  in  it.  It  was  a 
crime  for  which  nothing  less  than  fire  and  the  ax  were  penalties.  And 
at  such  a  time  a  creed  had  a  value  in  it.  It  was  a  weapon  of  ofience 
and  defence,  both,  which  long  since  has  ceased  to  be  needed  as  such  a 
wea})on.  Now  we  are  clinging  to  a  creed  largely  as  a  means  of  instruct 
tion.  LTsed  with  moderation,  it  is  of  very  great  importance  to  instruct 
by.  But  if  you  suppose  that  you  can  ever  do  more  with  it  than  make 
it  an  auxiliary  to  faith,  you  are  mistaken.  You  never  can  do  more  with 
it  than  to  bring  the  heart  into  conjunction  with  an  intellectual  presence, 
and  then  you  must  resort  to  the  help  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  There  is  no 
further  help  to  be  given  your  soul.  It  must  fight  its  own  way  with 
these  helps  up  into  the  bosom  of  Christ,  and  learn  what  he  is,  and  who 
he  is,  and  what  ai-e  the  blessed  sensations  of  love  toward  him.  More 
than  a  creed  is  necessary.^ 

3.  The  heart  may  embrace  Christ  with  an  enthusiasm  of  love, 
though  the  intellectual  perception  is  imperfect  and  vague.  It  is  better 
that  the  intellectual  perception  should  be  full  and  clear ;  nevertheless,  a 
man  can  embrace  Christ  by  the  heart  without  the  help  of  the  under- 
standing, far  better  than  he  can  embrace  Christ  by  the  understanding 
without  the  aid  of  the  heart.  Thousands  and  thousands  there  have 
been,  I  believe,  who  have  loved  Christ,  and  have  lived  on  their  love  to 
him,  and  have  died  by  the  powe*-  of  that  love,  and  have  been  translated 
to  glory,  though  they  could  not  have  defined  the  divine  nature,  nor  re- 
duced their  faith  to  any  intellectual  expression.  There  have  been  mul- 
titudes of  children,  poor  uneducated  persons,  degraded  negro  minds, 
into  whose  teaching  never  entered  even  the  technics  of  philosophv, 
who  understood  nothing  of  mental  science,  but  whose  hearts  have  seen 
Jesus  Christ,  and  out  of  whose  hearts  has  gone  an  enthusiasm,  an  alle- 
giance, a  fidelity,  that  has  led  them  gloriously  through  life  and  through 
death  to  the  blessed  Master.  They  would  have  been  larger  and  hap- 
pier Christians,  doubtless,  if  they  had  added  to  the  heart  element  the 
mtellectuiil  element  also  ;  but  it  is  possible  for  one  to  take  hold  of 
Chiist  with  the  heart.  It  is  possible  for  one  who  has  but  slender  en- 
dowments of  reason  to  take  hold  of  Christ. 

And  tliat  is  the  peculiarity  of  Christianity.     It  is  not  a  lore  of 
pliilosophy  which  requu-es  years  and  years  of  teaching,  and  which  c"^ 


360  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CERISTIAmTT. 

be  taught  only  to  men  of  genius.  It  does  not  require  that  a  man  should 
understand  the  whole  theory  of  moral  government,  or  that  he  should 
understand  the  psychology  of  the  divine  mind,  before  he  can  go  to  God 
through  Christ  Jesus.  A  child  can  go.  A  peasant  can  go.  A  blind- 
minded,  ignoi-ant  man  can  go.  The  lowest  and  poorest  can  get  hold 
of  then-  God,  though  they  cannot  reason,  and  though  they  have  but 
very  little  understanding.  It  is  this  peculiarity  that  makes  the  gospel 
of  Christ  a  gospel  for  the  poor ;  and  that  makes  it  a  gospel  for  all  ages, 
for  all  nations,  and  for  all  climes. 

When,  therefore,  you  insist  upon  it  that  a  man  shall  accept  Jesus 
Christ  through  the  channels  of  a  large  understanding,  you  commit  a 
serious  error.  If  intellectual  instruction  becomes  a  part  of  your  domes- 
tic training,  it  is  all  the  better ;  but  if  meeting  men  a?  ^ley  are,  un- 
taught, unwashed,  uncultured,  uninspu'ed,  you  find  one  saving,  "I  love 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  and  he  lives  as  though  he  loved  him,  it  is  not 
right  for  you  to  demand  the  other  element ;  it  is  not  right  that  he  should 
be  required  to  have  exact,  clearly-defined  beliefs ;  it  is  not  right  that  he 
should  be  called  upon  to  give  all  the  philosophical  reasons  why  Jesus 
Christ  stands  central  in  the  universe,  or  why  the  life  and  sufierings  and 
death  of  Christ  are  atoning  in  their  power.  For  I  hold  that  if  one  lovea 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  accepts  him  as  his  Saviour,  that  is  the  essen- 
tial thing.  Although  it  would  be  better  for  him  if  he  could  add  the 
other  element,  he  can  get  along  without  it.  He  can  live  safely  witb  out 
it,  and  he  can  die  safely  without  it.  You  cannot  take  a  mere  intell-^ct- 
ual  belief  in  Christ  and  be  saved  by  it ;  but  if  Christ  is  presented  to  'he 
heart  by  faith  you  can  live  and  die  and  be  saved  by  that.  Though  you 
are  better  ofi"  with  the  intellectual  element,  yet  if  it  is  not  there  you 
may  be  saved,  provided  Christ  dwells  in  your  heart  by  faith. 

In  the  day  of  Christ,  some  men  took  him  by  the  senses,  and  some  rejected 
him.  Now-a-days  some  men  take  Christ  by  mtellectual  apprehension. 
If  it  is  vitalized  by  another  and  moi*e  important  feeling,  it  is  admirable. 
Without  being  thus  vitalized,  it  is  of  very  little  use.  It  is  a  light  that 
will  condemn  one  by  and  by.  But  no  man  takes  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
by  faith  and  love, — in  other  words,  no  man  takes  him  by  an  experimental 
knowledge,  no  man  takes  him  by  a  personal  enthusiasm  of  allegiance, — 
that  he  does  not  take  him  substantially  right,  and  in  satisfying  forms.^ 

Christ  is  not  divine  to  us,  then,  by  a  well-formed  idea  of  divinity. 
It  is  the  worship  of  love  that  makes  hira  divine.  There  is  many  a  wo- 
man who  loves  a  man  as  if  he  were  divine.  Although  she  does  not  in- 
tellectually think  he  is  divine,  she  feels  as  though  he  was.  That  is  to 
say,  she  looks  up  to  him.  For  women  love  ujj  if  they  can,  and  never 
down  if  they  can  help  it.  There  is  many  a  man  that  stood  heroic  be- 
fore the  wife ;  and  up  to  him  went  enthusiasm,  and  affection,  and  every- 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  361 

tiling  that  was  in  her  heart  to  give.  If  he  had  been  very  God  she  conld 
not  have  ffiven  more.  He  was  her  idol.  He  was  to  her  a  God.  If 
you  had  called  upon  her  to  define  her  feeling,  she  would  not  have  been 
able  to  do  it.  If  you  had  asked  her  if  she  thought  he  was  divine,  she 
would  have  said  "Na"  Intellectually  she  did  not  think  he  was  divine  ; 
but  her  heart  made  him  divine :  she  wrongfully  made  him  her  idol. 

There  are  many  and  many  hearts  that  turn  toward  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  with  an  enthusiasm  of  love,  with  a  clasping  of  affection,  with  an 
entii-e  allegiance,  with  a  hope,  a  yearning,  a  desire,  that  carries  with  it 
everthing  which  then*  heart  has  to  give ;  and  they  have  been  so  edu- 
cated that  if  you  say  to  them,  "  Do  you  think  he  is  divine  ?"  they 
cannot  say  that  they  believe  him  to  be  so ;  but  their  heart  is  making 
him  divine  all  the  time :  and  the  loving  worship  of  JesuS  as  divine, 
is  a  true  worship.  By  the  heart,  man  believes  unto  salvation  ;  and 
there  is  many  and  many  a  man  who  may  err  in  his  speculative  ideas, 
but  whose  heart  makes  correction  for  all  his  mistakes,  if  it  is  really  and 
truly,  with  all  its  power  and  enthusiasm,  fixed  on  the  Saviour,  and  loves 
him. 

Whoever  so  loves,  then,  need  not  be  afraid  to  translate  his  love  into 
words.  As  a  man  may  love  Christ  in  his  heart  as  if  he  were  God,  al- 
though in  terms  he  denies  that  he  is  God,  his  intellect  being  weak,  and 
in  bondage,  but  his  heart  being  free,  and  interpreting  more  nobly  than 
his  understanding,  and  transcending  it,  taking  the  place  of  it,  indeed; 
so  I  say  to  such  persons,  who  are  restrained,  oftentimes,  from  avowing 
that  they  worship  Christ  as  God,  You  need  not  be  afraid  to  bear  wit- 
ness, if  you  can,  that  Christ  is  all  that  God  could  be  to  you  in  your 
conception.  If  instead  of  Christ  you  should  put  Jehovah  there,  would 
you  feel  any  more  love  ?  No.  Would  you  feel  any  more  singleness  of 
purpose  to  serve  him  ?  No.  Would  you  be  any  more  zealous  in  serving 
him  ?  No.  Could  you  trust  him  more  utterly  than  you  trust  Christ  ? 
No.  Ai-e  not  all  your  best  feelings  consciously  excited  in  you  by  the 
thought  of  Christ,  by  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  by  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Christ?  Yes.  And  although  you  see  manifold  inconsistencies  and 
imperfections  in  yourself,  and  live  far  below  your  ideal,  are  you  not 
conscious  that  about  that  name  your  best  experiences,  the  very  best 
things  your  soul  knows,  cluster  every  day  ?  Yes.  Then  you  need 
not  be  afraid  to  put  the  name  on  that  Being.  You  need  not  be  afraid 
to  crown  him.  Your  heart  has  crowned  him  already.  You  have  made 
him  your  Chief,  your  Leader,  your  Guide.  You  have  ascribed  to  him, 
not  by  thought  but  by  affection,  everything  that  constitutes  allegiance 
to  divinity.     Your  heart  is  worshipping  him. 

What  is  Avorship  ?  It  is  not  merely  bowing  doAATi  and  saying 
prayers.     It  is  not  merely  the  ascription  of  this,  that  or  the  other  qual- 


362  TEE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITT. 

ity  which  may  come  in.  But  he  who  pours  forth  his  heart,  his  best 
feelings,  and  gives  himself  to  another  in  all  his  nobler  nature,  worships. 
And  I  think  there  are  thousands  of  persons  that  the  stress  of  controversy 
has  driven  away  from  the  name  of  Christ,  whom  the  grace  of  God  has 
brought  back  to  the  substance.  I  believe  that  there  are  thousands  of 
persons  who  feel  the  drawing  of  Christ's  gi'eat  heart,  that  is  di-awing 
men  as  unconsciously  to  them  as  the  planets  in  the  heavens  di'aw  the 
tides.  The  ocean  does  not  know  what  ails  it ;  but  it  swings  to  and 
iro,  following  the  planets,  going  out  and  coming  in,  obeying  the  dnec^ 
tion  of  the  power  that  is  exerted  upon  them  from  above.  And  thou- 
sands of  hearts  in  eveiy  community,  conscious  of  their  sinfulness,  and 
conscious  of  their  need,  look  aloft,  and  behold  the  one  name  of  Christ 
Jesus ;  and  to  him  they  give  theii*  thought,  and  their  zeal,  and  their 
soul.  They  live  in  him,  and  trust  in  him.  His  name  is  the  sweetest 
name  in  dying.  It  is  music  in  the  sinner's  ear.  And  why  not  call  Him 
divine  ? 

Do  you  think  that  God  the  Father,  who  so  loved  the  world,  while 
yet  it  was  his  enemy,  as  to  give  his  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  it,  is 
so  narrow  and  jealous  that,  when  you  are  with  all  your  heart  loving  and 
following  Jesus,  if  you  make  a  mistake  in  a  name  or  philosophy,  he 
will  be  angry  at  it  ?  If  you  are  giving  your  soul  to  Christ  you  are  do- 
ing the  best  you  can  ;  and  the  mistake  of  a  name  or  a  philosophy  is 
not  going  to  be  material  with  you.  Oh,  that  they  who  think  they  will 
be  saved  because  they  intellectually  believe  in  the  divinity  of  Christ, 
could  be  alarmed  and  aroused !  That  wall  not  save  them.  Oh,  that 
those  who  have  all  the  glow  of  love  in  then-  souls,  and  who  yet  think, 
•'  I  do  not  dare  to  call  my  Saviour  divine,"  could  be  undeceived,  and 
break  away  from  these  shackles,  and  these  traditional  prejudices,  and 
come  out  into  the  light  and  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God !  He  who  loves 
God  under  any  name,  and  follows  him,  and  yields  allegiance,  and  en- 
thusiastic allegiance,  to  him,  is  salvable.  For  it  is  the  love  of  God 
that  redeems  us,  and  cleanses  us,  and  leads  us  with  an  infallible  light. 

Take  these  simple  forms  of  words : 

"  Abide  in  me  and  I  in  you.  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it 
abide  in  the  vine :  no  more  can  ye,  except  ye  abide  in  me.  I  am  the  vine,  ye  are  the 
branches."  "1  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock  :  if  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me." 

Take  these  simple  declarations,  and  translate  them  into  your  life. 
Ask  not  yourself  what  it  is  going  to  do  to  you,  or  where  it  is  going  to 
cany  you.     Simply  do  it. 

Do  you  suppose  it  is  possible  for  you  to  love  Christ  in  such  an  in- 
timate way  as  that ;  do  you  suppose  it  is  possible  for  you  to  be  iden- 
tified with  him  as  a  branch  is  to  a  vine  ;  do  you  suppose  it  is  possi- 
ble for  you  to  live  so  that  you  can  say  of  him,  "  He  is  my  Alpha  and 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CUBISTIANITT.  3G3 

Oinc'g'fi,  ho  is  my  first  and  my  last,  he  is  my  food  and  my  drink,"  and  do 
it  all  yonr  life  long, — and  then  have  anything  left  over  and  above  that, 
which  the  soul  can  do  for  any  other  being  higher  than  he  ?  Plave  you 
not  spent  the  force  of  life  when  you  have  fulfilled  these  commands  that 
lie  upon  the  face  of  Scripture  ? 

Let  me  put  it  in  another  form.  Suppose  a  man,  of  eveiy  excellence, 
noble  in  form  and  feature,  and  endowed  with  every  generous  disposi- 
tion and  worthy  aspiration,  should  meet  with  one  cast  down  ;  suppose 
that  through  the  stress  of  temptation,  through  the  wail  of  woe  that  is 
in  the  world,  some  soul  had  been  thralled  and  soiled,  but  yet,  being 
brought  out  by  him  into  the  companionship  of  holy  thoughts,  had  begun 
to  seek  a  better  way  ;  suppose  this  noble  nature  drawing  near  to  her, 
should  instruct  her  from  day  to  day,  until  all  her  soul  began  to  rise  up 
to  a  higher  plane,  until  she  began  to  see  how  hateful  her  jiast  life  was  ; 
suppose  that  now  he  should  say  to  her,  "  Come  to  me  every  day,  that 
where  I  am  you  may  be  also  ;"  suppose  he  should  say  to  her,  "  Come 
freely,  for  my  thoughts  live  in  ycu  ;"  suppose  he  say  to  her,  "  I  want 
you,  after  this,  to  consider  your  life  as  so  twined  with  mine,  that  we 
are  growing  on  one  root,  and  that  you  are  a  branch  of  me ;"  suppose, 
still  holding  her  fluttering  soul,  she  in  her  silence  wondering  what  such 
words  could  mean,  but  intensely  excited  and  lifted  up,  and  coming  to  a 
nobler  and  nobler  apprehension  of  truth  and  fidelity  and  purity,  he 
should  say  to  her,  "  Now  think  of  me  always ;  think  of  me  when  the 
morning  breaks — let  me  be  the  bright  and  morning  star  to  you  ;  think 
of  me  in  the  twilight — let  me  be  also  the  evening  star  to  you ;  think  of 
me  in  all  times  of  joy  and  sorrow.  I  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake 
you.  You  are  mine,  and  mine  forever."  Suppose  this  should  go  on  for 
Aveeks  and  months,  imtil  her  whole  soul  had  gone  out  and  twined  itself 
with  his  being ;  and  suppose,  at  last,  when  she  had  given  everything 
she  had  to  give,  he  should  turn  upon  her,  and  say,  "  What !  do  you 
suppose  it  is  right  for  you  to  love  and  worship  me  in  this  way  ?  You 
must  look  higher  than  to  me.  You  must  not  have  such  a  clasping 
adoration  as  this  for  me.  I  must  go.  I  must  leave  you.  I  cannot 
have  you.  You  must  find  some  other  support.  You  must  put  your 
tnist  in  something  higher  than  I  am." — I  ask  you  if  that  would  not  be 
using  the  divinest  elements  in  the  human  soul  for  the  worst  betrayal 
which  it  is  possible  for  one  being  to  commit  upon  another  ? 

If,  when  I  rise  in  the  last  day,  and  look  upon  Jesus  Christ,  I  may 
not  cast  my  crown  at  his  feet,  then  let  me  die  in  ignorance  of  his  name. 
For  he  has  told  me  that  he  is  mine,  and  that  I  am  his.  He  has  said 
that  he  dwells  in  my  heart,  and  has  told  me  to  come  into  his  heart. 
He  has  called  himself  by  every  sweet  name.  Nature  itself  is  precious 
to  me  because  I  associate  it  in  so  many  ways  with  him.     There  is  no- 


364  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CERISTIANITT, 

thing  in  the  day  or  in  the  night  or  in  the  year,  that  has  not  been  sanc- 
tified and  made  use  of  as  a  love-term  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  And 
now  may  I  not  love  him,  so  that  by  love  I  shall  hold  on  through  life, 
and  go  thi'ough  the  ford  of  death  %  And  when  I  rise  on  the  other  side, 
am  I  to  be  rebuked  because  it  is  idolatry  ?  Who  taught  me  to  worship 
him  ?  What  if  he  did  not  use  the  word  worship  ;  did  he  not  tell  nxe 
to  love  him?  Did  he  not  tell  me  to  cling  to  him?  Did  he  not  tell 
me  to  aspire  toward  him  ?  Did  he  not  oj^en  to  me  everything  in  him 
that  was  sweet  and  attractive  ?  And  had  I  not  a  right  to  let  my  heart 
go  out  to  him  in  simplicity  and  trust  ?  And  am  I  to  be  cast  out  in  the 
last  day  because  I  worshi^sped  the  wrong  one  ? 

Oh,  poor  bewildered  soul !  do  not  be  afraid.  The^e  is  no  such 
rock  in  the  harbor  where  you  are  going.  Love  on,  love  more ;  and  do 
not  fear  that  in  the  last  day  you  will  find  that  you  have  put  the  crown 
on  the  wi'ong  head.  Crown  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — crmon  him  Lord 
of  all — and  you  are  safe  in  worshipping  him.  Love  him,  and  he  will 
take  care  of  you.  Dismiss  your  jealousies.  Dismiss  your  fears,  and 
youi-  distress.  Only  be  sorry  that  you  do  not  love  enough,  and  that 
your  life  does  not  conform  enough  to  love. 

God  grant  that  every  one  of  us  may  stand  to  repeat  these  words  : 
"  They  sung  a  new  song,  saying,  Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the 
seals  thereof;  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood  out  of 
every  kindred,  and  tODgue,  and  people,  and  nation  ;  and  hast  made  us  unto  our  God 
kings  and  priests  ;  and  we  shall  reign  on  the  earth.  And  I  beheld,  and  I  heard  the 
voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and  the  beasts,  and  the  elders  ;  and  the 
number  of  thrsm  was  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands, 
saying  with  a  loud  voice,  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive  power,  and 
riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor,  and  glory  and  blessing.  And  every  crea- 
ture which  is  in  heaven,  and  on  the  earth,  and  under  the  earth,  and  such  as  are  in  the 
sea,  and  all  that  are  in  them,  heard  I  saying,  Blessing,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  power, 
be  unto  him  thrt  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and  ever.  And 
the  four  beasts  tvA,  Amen.  And  the  four  and  twenty  elders  fell  down  and  worshipped 
him  that  liveth  foie^e*  wad  ever." 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OP  CHRISTIANITY,  365 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMON. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  for  all  thy  care  of  love  which  thou  hast  taught  us.  "We 
thank  thee  that  thou  hast  caused  the  teachings  of  experience  to  converge  upon  thee. 
And  whatever  we  have  learned  to  know  of  the  heart  in  all  its  relations  of  home;  what- 
ever we  nave  seen  of  love  between  children  and  parents,  and  friends  most  loving,  is  but 
the  faint  and  far  away  instruction  of  thy  providence.  When  thou  bringest  by  the  Holy 
Spirit  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  to  us,  then  thou  dost  enkindle  all  these  know- 
ledges; then  thou  dost  lift  up  our  souls  into  a  higher  sphere  of  experience.  And  now 
■we  know  what  is  the  full  meaning  of  all  this  alphabetic  experience.  We  are  taught  to 
love  thee  with  all  the  heart,  and  mind,  and  soul,  and  strength,  and  to  rejoice  in  it,  and 
to  find  in  it  our  perfect  liberty;  to  find  in  it  the  hidden  experience  of  power;  to  find  in 
it  all  joy  and  perfect  peace. 

We  thank  thee  that  thou  art  granting  unto  some  the  more  perfect  knowledge  of  this 
royal  way  of  life.  We  thank  thee  that  there  are  some  who  have  found  the  King's 
palace,  though  they  only  walk  before  it,  and  do  not  see  his  royal  presence.  Some  there 
are  that  sit  in  the  garden  and  have  glimpses  as  he  passes  to  and  fro  within.  And  some 
there  are  that  stand  upon  the  threshhold  and  behold  his  comely  presence,  and  yet  do 
not  go  in.  And  some  there  are  that  stand  within,  and  yet  as  servants.  And  some  there 
are  that  are  admitted  to  his  presence,  and  that  hear  him  say.  Henceforth  I  call  you  not 
servants  but  friends.  And  some  there  are  that  abide  with  him;  and  he  knoweth  them. 
Thrice  blessed  are  they.  Oh  tliat  wo  were  of  their  namber !  Oh  that  we  were  within,  and 
always  within,  and  always  hearing  thee,  and  seeing  thee,  and  loving  thee,  and  rejoicing  ia 
thee,  and  rejoiced  over.  For  what  can  hurt  those  who  are  so  surrounded  by  thine  arms? 
What  can  pierce  them  or  reach  to  disturb  their  settled  peace?  All  the  earth  might 
■weep;  but  they  are  lifted  in  thy  divine  strength  above  sorrow.  Tea,  in  sorrow  is  sweet- 
ness to  them.  They  learn  to  suffer  with  rejoicings.  How  precious  are  the  revelations 
of  thyself  to  those  who  have  the  secret  of  God!  How  are  their  lives  as  choral  music ! 
How  often  is  mourning  turned  to  the  sweet  melody  of  minor  music?  Lord,  art  thou 
accessible  unto  all?  May  others  come?  Wilt  thou  show  thy  face  to  those  who  walk 
past  the  palace,  and  are  without  ?  Wilt  thou  not  go  forth  and  speak  unto  the  people, 
and  to  them  that  throng  the  streets?  Thou  that  didst  teach  in  the  temple,  didsc  teach 
upon  the  hillside.  Thou  that  didst  teach  in  Jerusalem,  didst  also  teach  in  Samaria, 
despised  as  it  was.  Thou  that  didst  reason  with  the  priests,  and  offer  the  Pharisees  sal- 
vation, didst  suffer  the  publicans  and  harlots  to  come  unto  thee;  and  thou  wert  most 
merciful  and  gracious  unto  thi-ui,  and  some  of  them  found  that  peace  which  passeth  all 
understanding.  And  art  thou  not  the  fame  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever,  dwelling  in  an 
innocuous  flame  of  love — flame  of  love  that  never  burns  but  purifies  ?  Art  thou  not  shin- 
ing forth  as  the  sun,  thy  symbol,  is,  for  all— for  the  poorest;  for  the  most  needy;  lor  all 
that  need  and  will  take  ? 

Graat,  we  beseech  of  thee,  this  day  thy  sovereign  love  to  all  those  that,  by  igno- 
rance, by  bondage,  or  by  bias  and  hindrance,  are  kept  from  their  best  estate.  Thou 
must  draw  them.  Draw  them,  we  beseech  of  thee,  not  by  compulsion,  and  by  strange 
hands,  and  violent  forces:  draw  them  as  the  sun  draws  forth  the  flowers  in  the  garden, 
that  come  out  they  know  not  why.  Draw  them  by  thy  love,  that  they  may  find  that 
secret  way  between  their  souls  and  God,  which,  once  open,  shall  never  be  stopped  again. 

Oh  teach  every  one  that  is  weary  to  find  the  place  of  rest.  Teach  all  those  that  are 
oppressed  with  guilt  to  know  whiTe  their  clearance  is.  Teach  all  those  that  are  in 
despondency  and  in  the  borders  of  des[iair  to  look  up  and  realize  that  a  great  light  has 
risi'n  upon  them.  Teach  all  those  that  are  made  to  know  their  folly,  and  to  feel  their 
weakness,  and  to  despise  theuiselves  at  times,  and  at  other  times  to  cast  themselves 
reekl<'S>ly  away  as  if  all  strife  were  vain  for  them,  to  find  where  their  succor  is.  May 
they  behold  Jesus  bearing  the  lambs  in  his  bosom- the  Shepherd  that  guides  by  hand, 
by  voice,  by  rod.  and  carries  as  well.  And  we  pray  that  there  may  be  none  that  shall 
count  themselves  unworthy  of  thee,  of  Ihy  notice,  of  thy  care.     For  thou,  O  Physician ! 


366  TEE  SUBSTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITT. 

•wilt  not  despise  any.  Thou  wilt  undertake  for  the  most  sick,  and  those  that  are  nearest 
unto  death,  and  thou  -wilt  recover  them,  and  bring  them  back  to  love  again. 

Grant  we  pray  thee,  then,  that  those  who  lie  about  the  pool  waiting  and  looking 
wistfully  for  some  one  to  help  them  down,  may  hear  thy  voice  saying  to  them,  Wilt 
thou  be  made  whole  ?  And  grant  that  there  may  be  many  souls  to-day  that  shall  lift 
themselves  up  in  a  holy  expectation,  and  come  forth  in  a  blessed  exaltation,  saying  to 
those  around  about  them,  See  what  the  Lord  hath  done  for  me.  Grant  that  hard  hearts 
may  be  broken,  and  obdurate  hearts  turned  back.  Grant  that  there  may  be  relentings  of 
will,  new  purposes,  and  holier  ones,  more  fervent  prayers,  and  more  sincere  vows  than 
have  been  made  before.  And  oh !  that  those  who  have  often  thronged  thy  sanctuary, 
and  have  registered  vows  there,  which  are  forgotten;  oh !  that  those  who  look  back  upon 
many  and  many  promises  made  in  times  of  darkness  and  trouble,  which  have  never  been 
kept;  oh!  that  those  who  look  back  upon  times  of  sickness  when  death  came  near  to 
take  them,  upon  promises  made  to  God,  everyone  of  which  has  been  broken— oh  !  that 
they  might  look  back  to-day  and  think  upon  all  these  things,  and  renew  these  promises, 
and  fulfill  them  speedily,  with  sorrow  and  contrition,  with  confession  of  sin  and  humili- 
ation. O  that  there  might  be  found  many  to  cast  themselves  upon  the  sovereign  mercy 
of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  to-day.  And  may  thy  Spirit  illumine  and  sanctify  and  cleause, 
and  fill  with  all  joy  and  peace.  And  may  thy  name,  thus  praised  in  the  heavens  above, 
be  praised  on  earth  responsively.  And  may  many  join  that  song  who  shall  never  cease 
to  sing  its  numbers  with  ever-growing  strains  until  they  sing  that  nobler  song  in  heaven. 

Bless,  not  us  alone,  but  all  the  churches  that  wait  upon  thee  to-day.  Grant  that 
thy  people  upon  earth  may  cease  to  divide  the  garment  of  Christ.  Grant  that  that  which 
is  of  Christ  in  us  may  be  more  uns /eakably  precious  than  all  the  rest  of  the  things  in 
this  world.  Grant  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  arrogance  and  from  selfishness.  Grant 
that  we  may  be  as  tender  toward  one  another  as  thou  art  toward  us.  Forgiven  every 
day,  living  on  thy  mercy,  may  we  learn  at  last  to  keep  our  hands  from  our  brother's 
throat.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  cause  everywhere  that  spirit  of  tenderness  and  sym- 
pathy and  gentleness  and  divine  love  to  glow,  that  it  may  overcome,  as  a  mighty  divine 
power,  pride  and  arrogance,  and  every  evil  and  hateful  thing.  Grant  that  holiness  may 
prevail  in  the  world,  and  all  flesh  see  thy  salvation. 

Which  we  ask  thiough  Jesus  the  beloved,  to  whom,  with  the  Father  and  the  Spirit 
shall  be  praises  evermore.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Grant,  Almighty  Go'l,  thy  blcs4ng  to  rest  upon  the  truth  which  we  have  spoken. 
Grant  that  it  may  be  as  a  word  from  God.  And  with  divine  illumination  and  divine 
insijiratiou,  lift  us  up  from  our  low  estate.  Lift  us  up  from  the  poor  teachings  of  the  house- 
hold. Give  us  the  clearer  light  of  thine  own  Spirif,  and  bring  us  into  that  personal 
communion  with  Jesus  by  which  our  henrt  shall  be  changed  to  love  and  our  life  illum- 
ined by  faith.  Thee  and  thee  only  do  we  trust.  In  thy  name  will  we  live;  and  in  thy 
name  will  we  die;  and  if  need  be  we  will  perish  in  thy  name.  For  thou  art  to  us  all  in 
all.  O  blessed  and  atoning  Saviour  !  we  thank  thee  for  thyself.  We  thank  thee  for  that 
goodness  which  has  brought  us  into  personal  love  to  thee.  We  thank  thee  for  all  the 
cheer  and  comfort  which  we  have  in  it.  We  thank  thee  that  it  makes  our  bed  in  sick- 
ness; that  it  smooths  our  road  in  adversity;  that  it  charms  and  cheers  us  in  the  dreariest 
scenes  of  life.  We  thank  thee  that  we  are  enlarged  and  enudbled  by  that  which  thou 
dost  give  to  us  of  thyself.  Still  may  we  cling  to  thee.  Siill  may  we  love  thee;  and  lev- 
in" live,  and  loving  die,  that  we  may  live  again  in  an  immortality  of  love.  And  to  thy 
name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son  and  Spirit,  evermore.    Amen, 


XXIII. 

Spiritual  Blindness. 


INVOCATION. 

Reach  forth  unto  us,  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  help  us,  that  we  may  rise 
and  come  into  thy  presence,  and  behold  thee.  Not  with  our  mortal  eye,  but 
by  faith,  may  we  discern  something  of  thy  glory,  this  day.  Draw  near  to  us 
that  we  may  draw  near  to  thee.  Live  in  us,  that  our  life  may  spring  forth  to 
thine.  Remove  doubt,  and  darkness,  and  care,  and  all  trouble  of  heart ; 
and  say  to  every  one  of  us  this  morning,  Peace  be  with  you!  Grant 
that  we  may  feel  that  we  are  reconciled  to  the  Father  through  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  Give  us,  to-day,  the  token  of  Sonship.  May  we  find  in  us, 
calling  for  thee,  all  unawares  and  involuntarily  that  which  completes  our 
sonship.  Grant  that  we  may  have  that  familiarity  which  shall  show  that 
we  are  indeed  brought  to  the  very  throne  of  grace.  And  so  wilt  thou  bless 
the  service  of  the  sanctuary,  of  instruction  and  devotion.  Bless  our  medita- 
tion, both  here  and  elsewhere,  this  day,  and  make  it  a  day  of  great  joy  and 
great  peace.     Which  we  ask  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 


"But  if  onr  Gospel  be  hid,  it  is  hid  to  them  that  are  lost;  in  whom  the  god  of  this  world 
hath  blinded  the  minds  of  them  wliich  believe  not,  lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ, 
■who  is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  unto  them." — 2.  Cob.  IV.  3,  4. 


Sight  belongs,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  bodily  organization ;  and 
yet,  very  early,  and  among  all  natiofis,  the  phraseology  is  transferred 
to  the  operations  of  the  mind,  instead  of  the  eye  ;  and  men  are  said  to 
see,  or  not  to  see,  mentally.  A  corresponding  change  was  also  made 
in  the  medium  of  sight.  The  truth  was  called  light,  and  falsity  was 
called  darkness.  The  whole  imagery  of  the  eye,  and  the  whole  pro- 
cess of  perception,  has  been  spiritualized.  It  scarcely  seems  to  have 
been  transferred.  We  have  become  so  used  to  it,  that  it  is  no  longer 
a  figure  in  any  sense.  We  speak  with  the  same  fiimiliarity  of  a  man's 
seeing  a  thought  or  an  argument,  as  we  do  of  his  seeing  a  mountain 
or  a  bird.  And  we  speak  of  truth  so  familiarly  as  the  light  that  no  man 
stops  to  think  whether  I  say,  "The  light  of  this  matter;"  or,  "The 
truth  of  this  matter."  Either  phrase,  even  by  a  child,  would  be  per- 
fectly well  understood. 

The  apostle  here  declares  that  the  Gospel  is  hidden  ;  and  the  impli- 
cation is,  that  it  is  a  thing  hidden,  as  it  were,  in  the  night — that  there 
is  darkness  spread  over  it;  and  that  it  is  hidden  from  men  on  account 
of  then-  moral  character — on  account  of  their  nature.  They  are  blind. 
He  says,  "  It  is  hid  to  them  that  are  lost,  in  whom  the  god  of  this 
world  hath  blinded  the  minds  of  them  which  believe  not."  The  truth 
of  the  Gospel  has  so  admirable  an  adaptation  to  our  moral  wants,  that 
we  should  receive  it  almost  sjiontaneously,  it  is  so  admii-ably  fitted  to 
meet  a  necessity  of  our  being  that  it  would  have  an  irresistible  inij^res- 
sion  upon  our  moral  nature,  if  it  were  not  that  there  is  something  which 
hinders  it.  There  is  some  interposition.  It  is  declared  here,  "  The 
god  of  this  Avorld  hath  blinded  the  minds  of  them  that  believe  not." 
There  is  darkness  thrown  between  the  appearances  of  the  truth  in  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  and  the  receiving  faculties  of  the  human  soul,   "lest 

Si'Ni>AY  MOKNLNO,  Feb.  13,  1870.  Lesson  :  RoM.  II.  Hvmxs  (Plymouth  Collection)  A'os. 
31,  484,  627. 


3G8  SPIRITUAL  BLIlyDNESa. 

the  liglit  of  tlie  glorious  Gospel  of  Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  G'  -cl, 
should  sliine  unto  them." 

That  which  the  apostles  found  to  be  true  has  been  found  to  be  true 
in  every  age  since,  by  any  that  have  attempted  to  teach  significantly, 
and  with  effect,  the  pure  truths  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

How  it  is  that  men  are  blinded,  or  what  is  meant  by  being  blind  to 
truth,  may  need  some  illustration. 

The  impression  that  a  man's  reason  Is  a  pure  intelligence,  that  it  is 
a  simple  capacity  to  know,  and  that  it  acts  by  laws  purely  of  its  own, 
is,  I  suppose,  the  popular  conception.  Men  discriminate  between  the 
reason  and  the  emotions  ;  and  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  persons  speak 
of  the  necessity,  in  order  to  let  the  reason  have  full  operation,  of  sup- 
pressing the  feelings.  We  are  to  discharge,  we  are  told,  passion,  and 
prejudice,  and  feeling  of  every  kind,  from  the  mind,  and  to  look  calmly, 
with  a  pure,  cold  reason — for  men  have  an  impression  that  reason  is 
just  that.  In  regard  to  far  the  most  important  sphere  of  knowledge, 
however,  the  truth  is,  that  reason  is  not  competent  to  discern  the  truth 
at  all,  in  and  of  itself,  and  is  as  absolutely  dependent  upon  the  influence 
of  feeling  for  its  capacity  to  discern  moral  and  social  truth,  as  the  eye 
is  dependent  upon  light  for  its  power  to  discern  color,  or  measure  dis- 
tances. There  is  no  popular  fallacy,  and  no  philosophical  fallacy,  of 
the  schools,  more  apparent  upon  reflection  and  examination  than  the 
idea  that  in  order  to  think  well,  a  man  must  think  coldly.  It  is  to  a 
very  great  extent  true  of  the  lowest  sphere  of  truth — that  is,  the  sphere 
of  physical  truth.  In  pure  scientific  truth,  it  may  be  that  the  reason  is 
to  be  discharged  of  all  color,  and  that  no  man  is  to  let  emotion,  passion, 
prejudice,  perception,  or  anything  of  the  kind,  come  in  to  determine, 
or  to  modify,  or  even  to  influence,  the  use  of  his  reason.  It  is  the  pure 
action  of  the  intellect  upon  qualities  that  lie  outside  of  the  man's  own 
consciousness,  hov/ever,  only,  in  which  the  reason  is  capable  of  discern- 
ing in  and  of  its  own  self  The  moment  you  come  from  mere  physical 
truths  into  the  realm  of  human  life,  and  undertake  to  investigate  and 
determine  truths  that  involve  in  them  character,  affection,  sentiment; 
in  other  words,  the  moment  you  begin  to  speak  about  the  truths  of 
common  life — about  prudence,  justice,  kindness,  pity,  love,  hate,  fear, 
or  desires  of  any  kind,  right  or  wrong,  in  all  then-  categories — that  mo- 
ment, I  affirm,  the  understanding  ceases  to  be  competent  to  form  any 
conception,  and  to  come  to  any  just  judgment,  without  the  help  of  the 
feelings.  The  intellect  cannot  discern  a  truth  of  justice  unless  there  is 
a  conscience  that  throws  upon  it  its  magnetism,  or  its  color,  or  what- 
ever you  choose  to  call  it.  It  is  impossible  for  the  intellect  to  form  a 
judgment  of  a  truth  of  conscience  unless  it  looks  upon  it  in  the  light 
of  conscience.     There  can  be  no  purely  intellectual  judgment  of  honor. 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  369 

There  mnst  be  a  sentiment  behind  the  truths  of  honor,  and  then  the 
intellect  can  judge  of  tliose  truths. 

So  it  is  of  all  the  relations  of  life.  The  most  important  truths  are 
those  which  stand  between  you  and  your  neighbor — between  you 
and  the  whole  tribe  and  fomily  of  mankind.  In  social  and  moral  truths 
lie  the  life  of  man  ;  and  here  are  the  most  important  elements  of  reason. 
These  have  constituted  immeasurably  the  most  of  all  that  the  reason 
has  had  to  deal  with  in  the  history  of  the  human  race.  And  in  regard 
to  tliis  large  class  of  truths,  pure  intellection  is  foolishness.  It  is  a  light 
shining  in  the  darkness  ;  and  the  darkness  comprehends  it  not.  In  re- 
gard to  all  these  truths  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  an  intelligent 
judgment  formed,  unless  the  reason  is  supplemented  and  inspu-ed,  and 
to  a  certain  extent  guided,  by  the  intuitions  of  feeling.  And  these, 
together,  constitute  the  ability  of  a  man  to  form  just  judgments  in  re- 
gard to  social  and  moral  truths. 

Experience  shows  that  the  intellect  of  man  ranges  from  a  veiy  quick 
sensibility  to  truths,  moral  and  social,  all  the  way  down  to  stone-blind- 
ness. If  you  take  men  as  they  rise  in  society,  you  shall  find  that  many 
— and  I  think  the  number  increases — are  competent  to  discern  truths 
upon  their  presentation.  They  are  quick ;  they  are  sensitive.  You 
can  present  to  them  no  truth  of  justice,  none  of  honor,  none  of  recti- 
tude, none  of  charactei',  that  they  do  not  comprehend  instinctively. 
Theii'  minds  are  so  adjusted,  their  intellect  has  been  so  accustomed  to 
play  with  their  moral  feelings,  their  understanding  is  so  saturated  with 
moral  sentiments,  that  the  moment  theu*  attention  is  called  to  these 
truths,  they  are  like  truisms  to  them. 

From  that  higher  point  men  grade.  You  will  find  some  that  are 
competent  to  judge  of  certain  kinds  of  truth,  and  insensitive  to  all 
other  kinds.  You  will  find  other  men  that  are  competent  to  judge  of 
some  kinds  of  truth  by  an  eflbrt,  when  they  strive  to  come  up  to  them, 
in  their  more  favored  hours,  when  all  their  better  affections  have  been 
roused  up,  and  their  worst  ones  have  been  put  in  subjection,  but  only 
under  such  circumstances.  In  a  time  of  calamity,  of  afihetion,  of  one 
or  another  experience,  you  will  find  that  men  are  able  to  discern  moral 
truths  ;  but  not  truths  that  are  below  these.  You  will  find  men  who 
can  discern  the  strongest  colors  of  moral  and  social  truths,  but  very 
little  besides.  Then  you  will  find  other  men  that  do  not  understand 
these  truths  at  all.  It  is  like  casting  pearls  before  swine  to  tell  them 
about  social  truths  and  moral  truths.  They  not  only  do  not  under- 
stand them,  but  they  do  not  believe  in  them.  And  they  turn  again 
and  rend  you  if  you  preach  them. 

This  describes  the  condition  of  men  in  human  society  as  they  actu- 
ally are  on  tlie  presentation  to  them  of  pure  forms  of  rehgious  truth. 


370  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

and  of  the  higher  forms  of  social  truth.  Not  only  do  ■R^e  see  this  to  be 
so  upon  the  bare  statement,  but  we  act  u^ion  it.  Men  see  difleiently 
all  the  time,  and  we  act  accordingly. 

For  instance,  a  man  is  solicited  to  buy  some  pictm-es.  He  has  never 
thought  much  of  pictures  himself  He  has  known  that  he  was  getting 
rich,  and  has  meant  by-and-by  to  live  as  other  folks  did ;  and  he  has 
understood  that  folks  that  lived  well  lived  with  pictures  in  their  houses; 
and  he  has  expected  that  the  time  would  come  when  he  should  live 
with  pictures  in  his  house.  He  has  learned  that  having  pictures  is  a 
part  of  gentility,  and  has  made  up  his  mind  that  he  will  have  pictures. 

At  last  the  time  has  come  when  he  has  a  little  more  money  than  he 
wants  in  his  business,  or  knows  what  to  do  with  ;  and  his  Avife  says, 
"  Now  buy  some  pictures  ;"  and  his  daughters  say,  "  Why  don't  you. 
Pa  f  and  he  concludes  that  he  will.  A  speculator,  finding  out  that 
he  is  going  to  buy  pictures,  catches  him  by  the  elbow,  and  draws 
him  into  a  j^kice  where  there  are  jjietures  for  sale,  and  says,  "  You 
ought  to  have  these  pictures.  Look  at  this  one.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
glorious  pictui-es  anywhere  to  be  found.  Don't  you  see  f  The  man, 
after  looking  a  moment,  says,  "  I  do  not  exactly  like  the  frame." 
"  Well,  but  the  picture"  says  the  speculator — "  do  you  see  that  ?" 
"The  picture  may  be  well  enough;  but  I  do  not  know  much  about 
these  things.  I  must  get  the  advice  of  somebody  that  knows  about 
pictures." 

Here  is  a  class  of  truths  that  this  man  confesses  he  does  not  know 
much  about.  He  looks,  and  does  not  see  what  he  looks  at.  He  does 
not  know  what  to  look  for.  He  does  not  know  whether  the  colors  are 
right  or  wrong.  He  does  not  know  whether  the  forms  are  according 
to  nature,  or  a  violation  of  nature.  He  knows  nothing  about  group- 
ing, or  about  di'apery.  He  knows  nothing  about  "tone."  He  looks 
upon  the  picture  as  a  mere  swab  of  color  all  about  the  canvas.  Here 
is  a  case  in  which  he  is  incapable  of  judging  for  himself,  and  he  knows 
it. 

Who  does  he  get  to  judge  for  him  '?  Tliere  is  a  spider  bellied  man 
yonder,  in  a  little  hole,  whom  he  has  employed  whenever  he  has  been 
"  shaving"  notes  or  speculating  in  paper.  His  judgment  is  good  in 
money  matters.  He  is  keen  as  he  can  be  in  this  direction.  His  eye 
glitters  like  a  basilisk's.  He  is  sharp  as  a  razor.  He  scarcely  ever 
makes  a  mistake  in  giving  his  opinion  with  regard  to  financial  opera- 
tions. And  the  man  says  to  himself,  "  I  think  I  will  go  and  ask  him 
about  pictures."  And  then,  after  a  moment's  thought,  he  laughs,  and 
says,  "  What  does  that  old  miser  know  about  pictures  ?  He  is  not  the 
m:m  for  me  to  go  to.  I  must  find  somebody  else."  And  here  is  an- 
other instance  in  which  a  man  that  is  familiar  with  one  kind  of  truth, 
does  not  know  much  about  another. 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  371 

By-and-by  tlie  man  iliinks  of  another  person,  and  he  says  to  a  friend, 
"  Who  is  that  fellow  that  failed  two  or  three  times — the  son  of  a  rich 
man,  who  traveled  in  Europe,  and  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  on  his 
education,  and  only  succeeded  in  one  thing — making  a  popinjay  of 
himself?  I  recollect  hearing  it  said  that  he  had  a  gi-eat  taste  for  pic- 
tures." The  man  hunts  up  this  "  fellow,"  as  he  calls  him,  saying  to 
himself,  "  He  has  an  eye  to  see  what  I  cannot,  and  what  this  old  mo- 
neymaker  cannot."  They  are  blind  in  art,  but  have  good  sight  in 
finance ;  and  he  has  good  sight  in  art,  but  is  blind  in  finance.  They 
have  succeeded  on  the  street,  and  he  has  failed  on  the  street. 

The  man,  when  he  has  found  this  connoisseur,  says  to  him,  "  Go 
with  me  and  look  at  some  pictures,  and  give  me  your  judgment  about 
them."  So  they  go  to  see  the  pictures  that  the  speculator  gave  such 
a  glowing  account  of;  and  after  glancing  about  the  room,  the  critic 
says,  "  Ai-e  you  going  to  buy  these  pictures  f  "  Well,  I  do  not  know. 
The  man  recommends  them  very  highly.  He  says  that  is  a  Rembrandt, 
and  wants  me  to  buy  it."  "A  what?  A  Rembrandt!  What  does 
he  say  that  other  is  ?"  "  That  he  says  is  a  Rubens."  "  A  Rubens  ! 
Look  here,  my  friend,  just  you  come  out  of  this  place.  Do  not  you 
get  caught  by  being  persuaded  to  buy  any  of  these  pictures.  A  man 
with  half  an  eye  can  see  that  they  are  mere  daubs.  They  are  only 
copies,  and  miserable  copies  at  that.  I  would  not  give  twenty  shillings 
for  the  whole  of  them." 

One  of  these  men  is  stone  blind  about  pictures  ;  but  the  other  sees 
them.  And  men,  the  moment  they  want  anything  done  in  a  du-ection 
in  which  they  cannot  see,  go  for  advice  and  help  to  men  who  can 
see  in  that  direction,  though  they  may  not  be  able  to  see  in  other 
du'ections. 

I  have  not  unfrequently  been  consulted  by  persons  at  a  distance,  as 
to  what  they  had  better  do  with  property.  One  man  writes  me  that 
he  wants  to  bestow  about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the  estab 
lishment  of  eleemosynary  institutions,  and  that  he  would  like  some  sug- 
gestions as  to  the  best  methods  of  doing  it.  Suppose,  in  such  a  case, 
I  should  go  to  some  avaricious  hunks,  and  say  to  him,  "  You  are  a 
moneyed  man,  and  I  want  to  ask  your  opinion  in  a  matter  involving  a 

large  sum.     I  have  a  friend  in  Indiana  who  wants  to  invest "     "  I 

would  advise  him  to  put  it  in  stocks  of  the  Michigan  Central,  Rock 
Island,  or  something  of  that  sort,"  says  the  man.     "  No,"  I  say,  "  he 

wants  to  invest  it  in  charitable "     "Charitable?     What  stock  is 

that  ?  I  never  heard  it  quoted  on  the  street.  I  do  not  believe  it  was 
ever  known  here  ?"  "  But  stop,  my  friend  ;  he  wants  me  to  give  him 
some  information  as  to  how  to  leave  his  property  so  that  it  will  do 
good  after  he  is  dead."     "  Oh !  advise  him  to  leave  it  to  his  wife  and 


372  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

childi'en.  That  is  what  I  mean  to  do  with  my  property."  "  He  has 
no  wife  and  no  children,  sir ;  and  he  wants  to  leave  it  so  that  it  will 
take  care  of  the  poor  and  needy."  "  Well — well — I  never  thought 
much  about  those  things.  You  had  better  go  to  a  minister  or  some- 
body else.  I  do  not  understand  matters  of  that  kind.  I  cannot  give 
you  any  advice  on  such  subjects." 

That  man  has  no  eye-sight  for  things  of  this  sort.  He  does  not 
understand  anything  about  a  charitable  application  of  funds.  He  never 
thought  about  it,  or  felt  about  it,  or  cared  about  it.  He  does  not  like 
to  have  his  attention  called  to  it.  When  he  has  been  pressed  to  use 
some  of  his  superabundant  means  for  benevolent  purposes,  all  that  was 
in  him  rose  up  against  it,  and  he  pushed  it  away  from  him,  and  would 
not  have  anything  to  do  with  it. 

Take  a  merry,  sharp,  good  natured,  well-to-do,  but  selfish  and  un- 
scrupulous lawyer.  Go  to  him  in  respect  to  your  child.  Say  to  him, 
"We  are  living  neighbors,  and  I  desire  to  consult  you  on  a  subject 
Avhich  causes  me  a  great  deal  of  unhappiness,  and  to  have  you  tell  me 
what  I  am  to  do.  I  brought  my  daughter  uj)  meaning  her  to  be,  as 
she  is,  a  splendid  creature.  She  is  perfect  in  music,  drawing,  and  every- 
thing that  could  add  to  her  accomplishment's.  I  have  brought  her  to 
just  the  point  when  I  want  her  to  go  into  society,  and  she  has  gone  in 
company  only  a  single  winter,  and  has  twenty  beaus  after  her ;  and 
now  she  has  fallen  in  with  some  of  those  church  folks  and  got  religion. 
She  does  not  want  to  dance,  or  go  to  balls  any  more.  The  education 
I  have  given  her  is  thrown  away.  All  that  she  cares  for  is  to  mope 
with  her  Bible,  and  run  after  rag-tag  and  bob-tail  children.  I  have 
talked  with  her,  and  coaxed  her,  and  scolded  her,  but  it  does  no  good. 
She  is  the  plague  of  my  life.  She  is  a  dear  girl ;  I  cannot  \\q\\)  loving 
her ;  and  I  am  going  to  leave  her  all  my  property  :  but  I  do  wish  this 
thing  had  not  happend.  And  I  do  not  know  what  to  do.  I  want  you 
to  advise  me." 

The  lawyer  looks  at  him,  and  says,  "  Then  Mary  has  gone  and 
got  religion,  has  she  ?  Now,  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  neighbor,  my 
advice  is  that  you  go  to  the  minister,  and  talk  to  him.  I  do  not  think 
I  am  very  deep  in  such  things  myself  If  it  were  a  matter  of  dispute 
between  you  and  some  neighbor,  I  would  gladly  take  the  case  ;  but  as 
it  is  a  question  of  religious  feeling  (whatever  that  may  be)  between  you 
and  your  daughter,  I  confess  I  do  not  know  much  about  it.  We  do 
not  have  much  of  that  sort  of  thing  in  courts.  You  must  go  to  some- 
body that  has  more  knowledge  of  such  matters." 

Would  not  that  be  true  to  nature  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  many  men 
are  blind  respecting  that  class  of  subjects  ?  You  yourself  are  every 
single  day  sorting  out  men  on  the  principle  that  some  men  can  see 


SPIRITUAL  BLINENES8.  373 

some  tilings,  and  cannot  see  others ;  that  some  men  know  some 
things,  and  do  not  know  others.  And  when  you  sjjeak  of  what  a  man 
knows  you  do  not  speak  of  ideas  necessarily.  Men  may  know  '\ 
gieat  deal  of  mathematics,  a  great  deal  of  machinery,  a  great  deal  of 
invention,  and  yet  not  know  that  which  shall  fit  them  to  be  your  coun- 
sellors. There  are  some  things  about  which,  if  you  question  them,  you 
will  find  that  they  are  all  blank.  If  it  were  a  matter  of  any  delicacy, 
you  would  not  think  of  going  to  them.  If  it  were  a  matter  of  courage 
And  strength,  you  would  not  think  of  going  to  some  others.  You  sort 
rtien  on  the  supposition  that  they  are  difierently  developed,  and  that 
eome  can  see  and  some  cannot;  that  some  can  see  some  things,  and 
«ot  others ;  that  some  can  see  a  little  way  up,  some  further  up,  and 
<jome  lar  up.  Men  recognize  this  in  their  daily  business ;  but  they  do 
not  stop  vo  see  that  it  is  part  of  a  great  moral  problem ;  that  it  is  a 
truth  exemplified  in  secular  and  social  life  which  underlies  the  whole 
teaching  of  the  Bible,  and  has  in  it  the  most  tremendous  issues  and 
consequences. 

If  we  take  thia  a-?erage  experience  of  men,  or  if  we  take  this  secular 
recognition  of  the  facrt  that  men  are  or  may  be  blind  to  truths,  we  per- 
ceive how  they  grow  in  tiiis  direction.  They  are  not  so  at  the  begin- 
ning, always.  It  is  one  of  tiie  most  melancholy  things  in  the  world, 
that  while,  usually,  the  executive  part  of  a  man  grows  sharper  and  more 
efiective  as  he  advances  in  life,  tltiose  things  which  make  his  manhood, 
his  noble  traits,  average  worse  as  he  grows  older.  The  effect  of  the 
sorrows  of  the  world,  of  its  strifes,  its  disappointments,  its  rivalries  and 
collisions ;  the  growth  of  pride  and  avarice — these  are  such  that,  with- 
out the  Gospel  to  hold  them  back,  and  sweeten  their  dispositions,  per- 
sons ripen  poorly,  badly,  and  are  seldom  as  generous,  seldom  as  honor- 
able, seldom  as  sensitive,  seldom  as  fine  in  then-  perceptions,  as  they 
were  when  they  were  boys  and  gMs.  In  their  bxecutive  nature,  their 
force-nature,  men  gain,  and  in  their  higher  moral  nature  I  fear  they 
lose,  as  they  advance  in  life.  Let  us  look  at  the  steps  by  which  they 
lose. 

Men  gi-ow  blind  to  moral  tiiith  simply  by  i)re-occ«pation  ;  by  hav- 
ing their  minds  so  full  of  other  things,  that  there  is  nothing  in  them 
that  looks  or  sees.  A  man  goes  down  through  the  street  &o  full  of 
thoughts  of  business  that  he  does  not  know  one  man  that  he  meets.  A 
man  goes  through  a  long  ride,  and  he  is  so  occupied  Avith  his  compan- 
ion, or  with  his  own  thoughts,  that  when  he  comes  back  he  could  not 
tell  you  anything  about  the  scenery.  He  could  not  tell  you  whether 
he  has  seen  any  trees,  or  any  birds,  or  anything  else.  The  trees  flitttd 
right  before  him  ;  the  birds  sung  from  the  thicket  which  he  was 
skuling ;  the  flowers  exlialed  the  sweetest  perfumes ;  the  farmers  were 


374  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

in  the  fields  plowing,  and  the  crows  and  blackbirds  were  following  for 
grubs  ;  and  the  opening  scenes  around  about  him  were  enough  to  make 
a  poet  half  crazy  ;  but  he  went  through  the  ch'cuit  of  a  seven  or  eight 
miles'  ride ;  and  when  he  returns,  and  the  invalid  girl  says  to  him, 
"  Father ;  is  the  grass  growing  ?"  he  says,  "What  my  child?"  "Is  the 
grass  growing?"  "I  do  not  recollect.  I  did  not  think  to  look." 
"  Well,  did  you  not  see  any  birds  while  you  were  out  ?"  Poor  thing  ! 
there  she  has  lain  on  the  bed  for  mouths ;  her  strength  is  gone,  her 
hands  are  thin,  and  white  as  alabaster  ;  she  longs  for  the  country,  and 
says,  "  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  see  the  flowers  again,  and  hear  the  birds 
sing  once  more !  Father,  were  the  birds  singing  ?"  "  Why,  my  child, 
if  I  had  thought  you  wanted  to  know,  I  certainly  would  have  listened." 
She  cannot  get  anything  out  of  him.  His  mind  was  so  full  of  some- 
thing else,  that,  though  he  went  through  a  most  beautiful  region, 
where  there  were  countless  objects  and  sounds  to  delight  the  eye  and 
the  ear,  when  he  gets  back  home  he  cannot  tell  a  thing  that  he  has 
seen  or  heard,  but  says,  "  I  have  been  looking  inside  all  the  while." 

Suppose  that,  on  one  of  those  paroxysmal  days  in  the  Gold  Room 
in  New  York,  while  every  one  of  the  men  there  is  attempting — with 
admirable  success — to  imitate  the  wildest  lunatic,  throwing  up  his 
hands,  and  yelling  and  pitching  and  striving — suj^pose  that  on  such  a 
day,  a  bunch  of  flowers,  the  most  exquisite,  were  carried  in  there  and 
set  down,  do  you  suppose  they  would  be  noticed  ?  Not  a  man  would 
see  them.  Why,  those  men  would  be  so  eaten  up  by  the  insane  ex- 
citement of  the  hour  that  they  would  not  see  anything,  and  would 
hardly  hear  a  thunderbolt  if  it  should  break  in  the  midst  of  them  ! 

Men  can  be  so  preoccupied  that  theu-  minds  become  quite  insuscep- 
tible to  impressions.  This  may  occur  not  simply  in  physical  things, 
but  also  in  social  and  moral  things.  A  man  can  take  one  or  two  inter- 
ests in  life,  and  give  himself  up  to  them  with  such  absorption,  that  all 
the  greater  truths  of  life  are  unheeded  by  him.  Of  the  spiritual  influ- 
ences that  are  permeating  society  ;  of  that  which  God  is  doing  by  his 
providence  ;  of  that  which  he  is  doing  by  the  ministry  of  angels ;  of 
what  the  Holy  Ghost  is  doing  in  the  hearts  of  men — of  these  things 
that  are  going  on  from  day  to  day,  around  about  him,  he  never  has  a 
suspicion.  He  does  not  see  them  ;  he  does  not  believe  in  them  ;  he 
does  not  understand  them  when  he  hears  others  talking  about  them, 
his  mind  is  so  perfectly  filled  with  secular  afiau'S. 

People  often  say  of  such  a  man,  "  He  is  a  good  sort  of  person.  I 
never  heard  that  he  did  any  harm."  Did  you  ever  hear  that  he  did 
any  good  ?  He  is  entu-ely  absorbed  in  one  or  two  secular  things.  His 
whole  life  beats  in  those  one  or  two  things. 

The  process  of  blindness  to  spkitual  things  may  grow  in  a  man,  too, 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  375 

by  the  principle  of  elective  affinity.  Men  feed  on  that  which  they  hun- 
ger for,  morally,  and  socially,  and  intellectually.  They  seek  the  quali- 
ties in  life  which  they  desire.  When,  therefore,  one  class  of  men  go 
down  the  street  for  business,  they  see  only  the  side  of  life  which  per- 
tains to  business.  When  another  class  go  down  the  street  for  gayety, 
they  see  only  the  sides  of  life  that  reflect  gayety.  One  class  of  men, 
going  down  the  street,  think  only  of  men ;  for  they  are  managers  of 
men.  Another  class  think  of  customers  ;  their  business  is  to  gather 
and  to  keep  customers.  Another  class  think  of  companions  ;  they 
an:  seekers  and  lovers  of  pleasure  more  than  anything  else.  That 
which  is  strong  in  men  absorbs  their  attention.  The  strongest  passion 
or  feeling  in  them  controls.  And  by  this  principle  of  elective  affinity 
they  seek  out  that  in  life  which  they  most  desire. 

That  is  the  principle  on  which  men  read  the  Bible.  If  a  man  is 
intensely  conscientious,  he  reads  the  Bible  so  as  to  gather  out  all  the 
conscience  element  there  is  in  it.  The  love  element  will  not  touch  him. 
He  will  go  over  that  and  not  see  any  of  it.  To  him  the  Bible  will 
seem  to  be  one  long  series  of  conscience-propositions.  Another  man, 
who  has  very  little  conscience,  but  who  has  a  gi'eat  deal  of  veneration ; 
a  man  in  whom  the  worshipping  instinct  is  strong,  will  go  through 
the  Bible  and  glean  out  all  that  appeals  to  that  predominant  quality  of 
his  natui-e.  Another  man,  whose  predominant  feeling  is  love,  as  he 
goes  through  the  Bible,  will  see  no  conscience,  and  no  veneration,  but 
will  be  struck  with  the  love  principle,  and  wUl  glean  that  all  out. 

And  men  do  just  so  by  life.  They  glean  out  of  it  the  things  to 
which  they  ai*e  attracted  by  elective  affinity.  Those  are  the  things 
which  they  see ;  and  to  everything  else  they  are  indifferent  and  blind. 

Men  become  blind  to  the  truth,  also,  by  noiirishing  jiassions  which 
are  antagonistic  to  it.  Every  one  knows  by  his  own  experience  that 
there  are  some  states  of  mind  which  preclude  othei's.  If  a  man  is 
angry,  he  cannot  be  mirthful,  or  if  he  is  mirthful  he  cannot  be  angry, 
at  the  same  time.  The  mind  is  apparently  made  with  antagonistic 
passions  ;  and  if  one  is  in  ascendency,  its  opposite  is  in  depression,  al- 
ways. And  that  is  tlie  secret  of  discipline,  if  people  only  knew  it. 
When  your  child  is  furiously  angry,  and  you  wish,  without  chastise- 
ment, to  make  him  good-natured,  it  you  can  present  that  which  is  lu- 
dicrous to  him  so  as  to  make  him  laugh,  you  will  see  the  point  at 
which  the  anger  strives  and  bubbles  and  foams,  and  the  point  at  which; 
finally  the  laugh  gets  the  upper-hand,  and  the  anger  goes  down.  This 
is  a  trick  of  the  nursery.  Children  play  it  on  each  other.  And  this 
principle  is  important — namely,  that  the  feelings  move  at  opposite 
poles,  and  that  if  one  is  in  ascendency,  the  other  will  be  in  depression. 
Yo\x  cannot  have  destructiveness  and  benevolence  dominant  at  the 


376  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

same  time.     One  puts  the  other  down,  or  is  put  down  by  it.     And  so 
it  is  in  the  whole  realm  of  the  human  mind. 

Now,  no  man  can  be  saturated  with  pride,  and  have  any  discern- 
ment of  those  sphitual  truths  which  tm-n  on  humility.  No  man  can 
be  filled  with  sensuous  passions  from  day  to  day,  and  yet  know  any- 
thing about  the  truths  of  disinterestedness,  and  pure,  true,  sphitual 
friendship.  No  man  can  live  from  day  to  day  in  the  spirit  of  self-in- 
dulgence, and  yet  have  any  conception  of  what  Chiist  meant  when  he 
said,  "  Take  up  my  cross,  and  follow  me,  daily."  No  man  can  live 
in  a  grasping  selfishness,  and  yet  have  any  conception  of  affluent 
benevolence.  Where  men  live  in  the  indulgence  of  the  lower  passions 
of  their  nature,  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  see  any  truths  except  those 
which  are  colored  by  those  passions.  I  had  almost  said  that  they  are  a 
mechanical  obstruction.  Certain  it  is  that  no  mechanical  obstruction 
could  be  more  efiectual  than  this  moral  obstruction.  In  the  very  natm-e 
of  things,  where  lower  passions  fill  the  mind,  men  are  blind  to  higher 
moral  elements. 

By  habit  this  rday  become  a  second  nature — and  it  actually  does. 
Men  grow  away  from  the  power  of  seeing  things.  Men  grow  away 
from  art.  Men's  eyes  grow  less  sensitive  and  less  delicate.  They 
come  to  know  less  and  less  about  proportion ;  less  and  less  about  those 
elements  which  are  constituents  of  art.  And  so,  men  grow  away  from 
household  purity.  They  are  not  so  good  boys  as  they  were  little  chil- 
dren. They  are  not  so  good  young  men  as  they  were  boys.  They  are 
not  so  good  in  middle  life  as  they  were  when  they  were  young  men. 
They  are  in  old  age  worse  than  they  were  in  middle  life.  That  is  the 
history  of  hundreds  and  thousands.  And  men  grow  away  from  moral 
feeling.  It  never,  perhaps,  was  very  strong ;  but  it  grows  less  and  less 
declared — ^less  and  less  efiectual.  What  by  pre-supposition,  what  by 
elective  affinity  for  other  things,  and  what  by  the  antagonistic  infiuence 
of  the  basilar  passions,  they  come  to  have  less  sensibility  to  moral  truth. 
They  begin  to  call  it  an  ism,  an  abstraction,  or  metaphysics,  and  often 
deride  it,  and  say,  "  It  is  not  practical ;  it  does  not  belong  to  common 
life  and  common  sense." 

That  was  the  apostle's  experience  in  carrying  forth  the  story  of 
Christ.  There  is  something  very  touching  to  my  mind  when  I  think 
what  Christ  was  to  the  apostle.  Is  there  anything  that  is  so  innocent, 
is  there  anything  that  is  such  a  mark  of  simplicity,  as  the  ingenuous 
conduct  of  a  young  lover  ?  He  is  twenty-two  years  old.  He  has  a  fine 
heart,  a  real  noble  nature.  He  has  at  last  fallen  upon  one  of  God's 
angels.  He  tells  you  so,  with  great  simplicity.  There  never  was  such 
another — for  so  the  young  lover  always  thinks.  She  is  a  perfect  being — • 
a  thing  which  every  lover  finds  to  be  the  case  at  first.     He  makes  me 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  377 

his  confident ;  and  says,  "I  wish  you  could  know  heix"  I  have  known 
plenty  of  others  that  were  equal  to  her  in  every  way.  But  he  thinks 
this  is  a  special  case.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Beeclier !  I  want  you  to  look  at  her 
l^icture."  lie  takes  it  out  and  shows  it  to  me.  It  is  an  amiable,  pretty 
face ;  but  I  have  seen  five  hundred  just  like  it.  I  would  not,  of  course, 
hurt  his  feelings  by  telling  him  so  ;  but  it  is  the  fact.  He  goes  on  to 
descant  upon  her  beauty.  He  says,  "Knowing  her  has  made  another 
man  of  me.  It  has  caused  me  to  live  difierently.  It  has  cleansed  my 
conscience.  It  has  inspired  my  industiy.  It  has  filled  full  all  the  bet- 
ter parts  of  my  life.  I  am  determined  to  be  a  noble  man.  I  am  go- 
ing to  be  worthy  of  this  woman." 

Oh !  do  not  tell  me  that  the  widow's  only  son  buried,  is  the  saddest 
sight  in  life.  Do  not  tell  me  that  the  first-born  child  plucked  out  of 
the  mother's  arms,  and  laid  under  the  flowers  and  under  the  turf,  is  the 
saddest  sight.  To  see  that  young  man,  before  one  year  is  gone  by,  in 
an  agony  of  despair,  bury  his  trust  and  faith ;  to  see  his  heart,  after  it 
has  touched  its  most  generous  mood,  fall,  like  a  star  from  heaven,  into 
darkness  and  despondency  and  unfuith — that  is  the  bitterest  thing  in 
this  world.  To  lose  faith  in  love ;  to  lose  faith  in  disinterested  friend- 
ship; to  lose  faith  in  that  which  you  thought  stood  nearest  to  God  and 
nearest  to  you — that  is  the  saddest  thing  in  this  world. 

Paul  seems  to  me  just  like  such  a  young  man,  only  he  never  lost 
his  faith ;  only  he  is  like  those  more  fortunate  ones  who,  having  dis- 
covered something  that  they  thought  to  be  perfect,  have  found  it  to 
grow  better  and  better  in  after  years.  For  there  are  people  who  are 
just  like  flowers  that  blossom  only  once — that  blossom  early  in  spring, 
and  carry  then*  leaves  wilted  and  ragged  all  through  the  summer ;  and 
there  are  persons  who  are  like  the  morning  glory,  that  begins  to  blos- 
som early,  and  does  not  forget  it  till  the  very  frost  of  wn.nter  cuts  it 
down.  There  is  bloom  upon  bloom,  morning  after  morning,  and  each 
one  is  as  fah  and  as  foiry-like  as  if  there  had  never  been  another. 

Paul  went  forth  feeling  that  he  had  found  a  Lover.  The  old  phar- 
isee  ;  the  j^roud,  stifi'-necked  Jew  ;  the  man  that  was  cruel  in  his  con- 
scientiousness ;  the  man  who,  for  the  sake  of  making  another  man  be- 
lieve right,  took  him  by  the  throat  and  hurled  him  into  the  fire — he  had 
a  view  of  Jesus  Christ  that  gave  him  such  a  conception  of  God,  such 
an  idea  of  love,  such  a  sense  of  character,  as  became  to  him,  oh  !  what 
a  power  !  When  once  he  had  taken  it  in  it  filled  his  soul  with  light. 
And  he  said,  "  "Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon 
earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee."  It  was  he  that  could  say,  afterward, 
"I  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you;  though  the  more  abun- 
dantly I  love  you,  the  less  I  be  loved."  It  was  he  that  could  declare 
that  by  faith  he  rejoiced  in  infirmities  and  tribulations.     It  was  he  that 


^ 


378  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

could  say,  "  My  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God."  It  was  he  that  could 
say,  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have 
kept  the  faith ;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteous- 
ness, Avhich  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me."  Paul  went 
round  with  this  Christ — ^this  lover  Chi-ist — this  Christ  with  whom  he 
was  in  love,  who  was  all  to  him  in  heaven,  and  who  was  the  center  and 
embodiment  of  every  conceivable  excellence,  in  God,  in  angels,  and  in 
men.     This  Christ  he  preached.     His  soul  was  thrilled  by  him. 

If  you  read  Paul's  letters,  you  will  see  that,  although  he  was  a  man 
of  an  intensely  logical  mind,  never  did  the  name  of  Christ  come  up  in 
the  midst  of  an  argument,  that  it  did  not  shatter  that  argument  to  frag- 
ments. Never  did  it  burst  in  upon  him,  that  he  did  not  have  to  stop 
and  unfold  Christ's  character,  and  express  his  adoration  for  him,  before 
he  could  get  his  own  leave  to  go  on  with  his  argument.  And  there 
never  was  a  more  ragged  arguer  than  his  New  Testament  writings 
show  him  to  have  been.  And  that  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  Bible.  No 
man  knows  how  to  read  the  Bible  who  does  not  understand  the  explo- 
ration of  sudden  emotions  of  love  in  the  midst  of  logic ;  who  does  not 
understand  the  deflections  it  makes. 

Paul  went  out  to  preach  this  Christ,  that  made  him  tingle  fi7)m  head 
to  foot ;  and  men  listened  ;  and  some  said,  "What  will  this  babbler  say  ?" 
and  others  said,  "He  seemeth  to  be  a  setter  forth  of  strange  Gods;" 
and  philosophers  listened  with  a  leaden  and  half-curious  ear,  and  forgot 
what  he  had  said  before  they  left  the  spot.     To  be  sm-e,  there  was  one 
widow  out  by  the  river  who  heard  it  gladly  ;  and  here  and  there  a  poor 
servant  or  slave  accepted  it ;  but  after  years  and  years  of  labor  he  said, 
"  Ye  see  yom-  calling,  brethren,  how  that  not  many  wise  men  after  the 
flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble  are  called ;  but  God  hath  cho- 
sen the  foolish  things  of  this  world  to  confound  the  wise ;  and  God 
hath   chosen   the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things 
which  are  mighty  ;  and  base  things  of  the  world,  and  things  which 
are  despised,  hath  God  chosen,  yea,  and  things  which  are  not,  to  bring 
to  naught  things  that  are."     And  yet,  there  was  living  in  his  imagina- 
tion, and  glowing  in  his  heart,  a  radiant  and  transcendent  image  of 
beauty — the  most  glorious  conception  that  could  fire  the  heart  of  man, 
exalting  it,  elevating  it,  comforting  it,  and  promising  it  joy  in  the  life 
that  now  is  and  in  that  which  is  to  come.     And  when  he  preached  it 
in  Athens,  he  got  nothing ;  when  he  preached  it  in  Corinth  he  got  a 
handful;  when  he  preached  it  in  Asia  Minor,  he  gleaned  a  few  here, 
and  a  few  there ;   but  the   great  mass  of  men  were  clamoring  on. 
The  god  of  this  world  had  blinded  them  so  that  they  could  not  see  the 
truth,  and  the  beauty,  and  the  joy,  and  the  glory,  which  there  was  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  379 

Kqw,  that  which  was  the  experience  of  Paul,  is  the  experience  of 
every  man  whose  own  soiil  has  ever  been  made  enthusiastic  by  the 
love  of  tha  Saviour.  "When  he  attempts  to  preach  Christ  to  men,  the 
conviction  which  lie  looks  for  in  them  does  not  exist.  The  sentiments 
which  he  expresses  find  no  echo  in  their  bosom.  The  rapture  and  zeal 
which  he  feels,  meet  with  no  response  from  them.  They  ai'e  preoccu- 
pied- And  it  is  this  fact  that  makes  them  blind  to  these  things.  They 
are  engrossed  with  other  things  which  they  like  better,  and  that  makes 
them  blind.  They  are  under  the  dominion  of  those  coarser  passions 
which  ai'e  antagonistic  to  any  such  feelings  as  these.  And  thus,  from 
every  side,  and  for  every  reason,  men  are  blind,  so  that  they  hear  the 
Gospel  preached,  and  are  told  Avhat  Christ  is,  and  see  men  rejoicing  in 
Him,  almost  without  any  sympathy  whatever. 

And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  whole  of  human  life — its  industiy, 
its  civic  economy,  its  social  fabric,  which  was  meant  to  be  a  grand 
means  of  grace,  training  men  not  only  to  outward  thrift,  but  through 
this,  to  a  nobler  reason  and  sphituality — it  comes  to  pass  that  these 
things,  instead  of  promoting  the  objects  for  which  men  were  created, 
are  making  them  carnal,  secular.  This  world,  which  was  meant  to  be 
a  symbolization  of  the  other  hfe,  becomes  a  curtain,  and  hangs  before 
that  life,  and  shuts  out  the  light  of  it.  All  the  processes  of  society  and 
nature  that  were  meant  to  teach  us  of  God ;  all  the  economic  forces 
that  exist  among  men ;  all  the  sweet  relationships  of  social  life,  in  father 
and  mother,  and  brother  and  sister,  and  friend  and  neighbor,  which 
were  meant  to  be  so  many  teachers  of  the  various  inflections  of  life, 
designed  to  give  us  some  conception  of  the  nature  and  disposition  of 
the  great  Father  in  Heaven — these  things  are  perverted  to  wrong  uses 
and  made  to  teach  men  falseness,  to  hide  the  truth  from  them,  and  to 
render  them  blind  to  those  things  which  above  all  others  they  ought  to 
see. 

Men  thus  go  on  exerting  the  whole  force  of  their  life  in  producing 
moral  deformities.  Dwarfs  are  usually  not  simply  smaller  than  other 
men,  but  deformed  The  hands  and  the  feet  will  perhaps  be  enormously 
large,  and  the  body  and  legs  and  arms  excessively  small.  No  person 
takes  pleasure  in  looking  at  a  deformity  of  the  body.  It  is  a  painful 
sight  for  any  one  to  behold.  l^Ien  sometimes  shrink  with  irrepressible 
shuddei-ings  from  each  others  physical  deformities.  And  yet  you  are  so 
familiar  with  defoi-mity  within,  that  you  can  without  shrinking  or  ex- 
periencing any  pain,  see  men  destroy  then-  whole  moral  nature,  or  leave 
it  almost  ungrown,  the  hands  and  feet  by  which  they  work  and  walk  in 
this  world  being,  like  those  of  the  dwarf,  overgrown ;  but  conscience, 
and  veneration,  and  faith,  and  hope,  and  love,  and  sweet  divine  sym- 
pathy, being  almost  in  the  bud,  scarcely  unrolled,  and  not  at  all  devel 


380  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS. 

oped.  Men  are  living  so  as  to  dwarf  themselves  in  their  higher  nature ; 
and  when  they  come  to  the  horn*  of  death  they  will  not  be  able  to  carry 
out  with  them  that  for  which  they  have  given  their  whole  life.  The 
thing  that  men  work  for,  and  sacrifice  everything  for,  in  this  world,  is 
that  which  they  cannot  carry  one  step  beyond  the  grave.  And  their 
better  nature,  which  they  have  cramped,  and  crippled,  and  deformed, 
and  destroyed,  and  sacrificed,  is  the  only  part  which  they  can  take  out 
of  life  with  them.  Having  made  themselves  morally  hideous  for  the 
sake  of  earthly  things,  they  leave  all  those  earthly  things  behind  them 
at  death,  and  take  with  them  moral  cripplings,  moral  hideousness,  moral 
deformity,  into  the  other  life ;  into  that  profound  mystery  of  the  future  ; 
into  that  great  void — no,  into  that  land  of  joys  and  of  woes  ;  into  that 
land  wJiich  no  human  thought  can  fathom. 

In  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky,  there  are  chasms  into  which 
one  may  throw  stones,  and  listen,  and  listen,  and  listen,  and  hear  no 
answer.     So  deep  are  they  that  no  sound  returns. 

Men  stand  on  the  verge  of  the  eternal  world,  and  thi-ow  over  then- 
questions,  and  listen,  and  listen,  and  no  answer  comes  back.  Nor  do 
we  know  anything  about  that  world,  except  that  Jesus,  who  came  from 
it — Jesus  the  pure,  the  serene,  the  sweet,  the  gentle — said,  "These  shall 
go  away  into  everlasting  life,  and  those  into  everlasting  punishment." 
That  is  all  we  know — just  this  simjile  sej^aration  of  the  bad  from  the 
good  forever,  in  the  world  that  is  to  come.  And  we  take  the  mighty 
enginery  of  this  world  ;  we  take  all  its  forces,  and  all  its  incitements, 
and  all  its  treasures,  the  whole  royalty  of  its  wealth,  to  crii)2)le  and 
destroy  that  part  of  ourselves  which  is  to  go  out  of  this  life  ;  and  all 
the  things  that  we  have  lived  for  we  shall  leave  behind.  And  so,  having 
been  blind  all  the  way  through  life,  we  go  to  be  blind  in  the  land  of 
darkness  beyond. 

My  dear  friends,  is  not  this  true,  to  your  own  personal  knowledge  ? 
All  you  that  have  not  been  enlightened  by  the  saving  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  all  you  that  have  not  felt  the  power  of  the  truth  as  set 
home  by  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God,  is  it  not  true  that  you  are  blinded 
— blinded  to  the  love  of  Christ;  blinded  to  the  sacrifice  of  Christ;  blind- 
ed to  your  obligations  to  Christ  ?  Are  you  not  blind  to  the  great  econ- 
omy of  truth  that  is  going  on  silently,  solemnly,  and  surely  above  your 
heads,  and  around  about  you  ? 

All  the  earth  is  moving.  The  Lord  God,  who  sits  regent,  is  not 
deterred  by  philosophy.  His  cause  goes  forward,  in  the  church,  and 
out  of  the  church ;  by  ministers,  and  in  spite  of  ministers ;  with  skep- 
tical philosophies,  and  with  fiiith  running  to  the  other  extreme.  Under 
all  circumstances,  the  great  Kingdom  of  God — the  kingdom  of  reason, 
the  kingdom  of  justice,  the  kingdom  of  truth  and  sympathy,  the  kmg- 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  381 

dom  of  love  and  gladness,  the  kingdom  of  purity — is  gaining  ground. 
It  is  growing  stronger  and  stronger  in  all  the  earth.  Selfishness  does 
not  stop  it ;  and  all  man's  pride,  foaming  out  against  it,  does  not 
stop  it. 

Since  the  sun  has  begun  to  come  book,  who  can  stop  the  growing 
day  ?  Who  now  can  make  the  hours  dark  that  the  sun  is  making  light? 
It  lingers  longer  in  the  west,  and  comes  up  earlier  in  the  east,  and  the 
day  is  growing.  And  let  the  north  blow  out  its  pufis  of  ice  as  much 
as  it  will ;  let  the  snow  come  as  much  as  it  will,  they  cannot  keep  the 
summer  off.  It  is  coming.  It  is  advancing  through  the  air.  I  hear 
the  birds  coming.  I  smell  the  flowers,  blooming.  From  flir  south- 
ern latitudes  the  sun  is  advancing.  The  summer  will  be  here  before 
long. 

And  so,  he  that  is  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  is  bringing  in  the  sum- 
mer-day of  redemption  ;  and  all  men's  belief  and  wickedness  and  foam- 
ing passions  may  set  themselves  against  it,  bat  it  comes  through  the 
air.  It  comes  through  the  ages.  It  comes  by  the  mighty  power  of 
the  omnipotent  God.  And  no  man  shall  stop  it.  The  day  will 
yet  come  when  it  shall  be  triumphant  over  all.  And  you  shall  see  it — 
some  of  you  in  sympathy  and  rejoicing ;  and  some  of  you,  I  fear,  on 
the  other  side,  on  the  left,  with  scowling  sadness.  Woe  be  to  those 
that  are  not  on  the  Lord's  side  when  he  comes  in  the  day  of  his  power, 
to  execute  final  justice  and  judgment ! 

May  God  grant,  when  Christ  is  proclaimed  to  you,  now,  to-day, 
that  you  may  wipe  away  the  films  from  your  eyes,  and  throw  away  those 
passions  that  hide  the  light  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  that 
you  may  rise  up  and  call  yourselves  the  sons  of  light,  and  begin  to  see, 
to  love,  to  trust,  to  follow,  that  you  may  finally  reign,  with  exceeding 
gi'eat  joy,  in  youi-  Father's  Kingdom. 


382  SPIBITTIAL  BLINDNESS. 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK 

"We  rejoice,  Almighty  God,  that  thou  hast  made  thyself  knon-n  to  us  in  the  -world 
■which  thou  hast  created;  but  more  especially  do  we  rejoice  that  thou  hast  recorded  thy 
truth  and  thy  government  by  the  word  of  holy  men  that  spake  of  old  as  they  were  moved 
by  thy  Spirit,  and  that  thou  hast  gathered  up  and  garnered  those  ripest  and  best  expe- 
riences of  men  under  thy  care,  and  made  them  our  models  and  our  guides.  "We  thank 
thee  that  in  the  fulness  of  times  all  other  truth  is  surpassed  in  fullness  and  gloriousness 
by  the  revelation  of  thyself  in  Jesus  Christ.  Through  him  we  now  discern  the  truth  of 
the  living  God,  no  longer  afar  off;  no  longer  hid  under  forms  of  dread  authority;  no 
longer  clothed  with  power  and  with  faith  ministered  unto  all  that  fear.  We  are  brought 
near,  now,  by  love.  "VVe  behold  the  face  of  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  We  are  in 
sympathy  with  thee.  Thou  comest  for  us,  and  dost  wait  upon  our  weakness.  Thou 
dost  forget  our  transgression,  and  thy  chastisement  is  a  healing.  Whom  thou  lovest 
thou  chastenest,  and  scom-gest  the  sons  whom  thou  receivest.  And  now  we  behold  thy 
blessed  Spirit,  enlightening,  comforting,  guiding,  inspiring,  all  abroad  throughout  the 
earth.  Whatever  is  good,  or  aspires  toward  goodness,  is  helped  by  thy  Spirit  ;  and  the 
blind  are  led  in  a  way  which  they  knew  not  of,  and  the  poor  are  made  rich  in  a  way  that 
they  sought  not,  and  those  that  are  out  of  the  way  are  found  of  Him  who  goes  to  seek 
and  to  save  the  lost.  Thou  art  filling  the  world  and  time  with  the  sweet  influences  of 
thy  nature;  and  this  earth  that  began  far  away  from  thee,  and  hast  wallowed  in  savage- 
ncss,  thou  art  through  the  ages  ameliorating,  building  up  into  righteousness,  bringing 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  filling  with  thy  Spirit.  Even  so.  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly.  To 
us  how  slow  is  the  work !  but  thou  dwellest  in  eternity,  and  thou  art  not  hurried,  as  our 
steps  are  that  must  fall  fast  or  ever  life  and  its  light  are  gone.  Grant,  we  beseech  of 
thee,  that  we  may  have  faith  to  believe  that  that  is  best  done,  though  it  takes  many 
generations  of  our  lives,  measured  upon  the  scale  of  thine  own  greatness.  Grant  that 
we  may  learn  to  be  patient,  and  not  to  doubt,  and  not  to  fear  the  progress  of  thy  work  in 
this  world.  Thou  hast  sown  the  seed;  thou  wilt  reap  the  harvest.  Thou  hast  begun 
the  work,  so  different  from  our  conceptions,  so  full  to  us,  yet,  of  darkness  and  mystery; 
but  thou  wilt  complete  it  in  righteousness.  And  the  heavens  shall  praise  thee;  and  all 
shall  rejoice  before  thee  that  see  thy  goodness  and  thy  wisdom,  and  all  the  marvels  of  it 
in  time.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  we  may  be  of  that  blessed  number  who  yet  shall 
stand  at  thy  right  hand,  to  see  thee  cleared,  and  the  way  of  righteousnes  made  plain, 
and  God  vindicated  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  universe,  that  he  has  been  just  and  true  and 
merciful.  Grant,  we  beseech  thee,  that  we  may  not  be  among  those  that  liarden  their 
hearts,  that  blind  their  eyes,  that  stop  their  ears,  that  refuse  to  love  thee,  and  are  turned 
away  as  thine  enemies,  and  are  not  permitted  to  enter  into  thy  glory.  Grant,  we  pray 
thee,  O  Lord,  that  wo  may  be  among  that  blessed  band  who  love  the  Savior,  and  who  by 
love  are  transformed  into  his  image,  and  are  led  by  his  hand,  step  by  step,  up  to  all  the 
heights  of  gloiy.  For  the  time  we  should  be  teachers;  and  yet,  we  have  need  to  learn 
what  are  the  first  principles.  We  should  have  gone  on  unto  perfection,  not  stcpjiing  to 
lay  again  the  foundation.  Alas!  that  we  linger;  that  our  victories  are  so  inconclusive; 
that  our  battles  are  fonglit  over  and  over  and  over  again. 

Lord  Jesus,  grant  that  we  may  have  such  a  quickening  influence,  such  an  indwell- 
ing of  thy  power,  that  we  may  be  able  to  defeat  thine  enemies  and  ours,  so  that  they  shall 
bo  utterly  destroyed,  and  that  their  dominion  over  us  shall  cease.  Lead  us  to  higher 
and  higher  attainment3  in  the  Christian  life.  Grant  that  our  own  souls  may  become  so 
transformed  by  the  multiform  working  of  love,  that  we  shall  discern  more  beauty  in 
thee,  and  more  wondrous  excellencies  in  thy  law,  and  in  the  life  of  true  Christian  faith. 
May  it  be  granted  to  us  to  discern  the  truths  that  are  within  the  vail,  and  to  live  above 
the  senses,  in  that  invisible  realm  of  holy  thoughts,  and  pure  affections,  and  noble  aspira- 
tions; in  that  realm  where  thou  thyself  dost  dwell. 

And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  all  hindrances  may  be  taken  away.  Take  away  from 
us  all  known  sins;  all  things  that  limit  and  hinder  the  conscience;  all  things  that  sully 
it;  all  things  that  diminish  the  power  of  affection;  all  things  that  make  us  proud  and 


SPIRITUAL  BLINDNESS.  383 

selfish  and  worldly.  And  may  we  seek  to  prepare  our  hearts  so  that  they  shall  be  guest- 
chambers  for  thine  indwelling.  And  come,  O  thou  best  Friend,  Jesus,  Son  of  God,  and 
very  God — come  to  us  with  all  thy  power  of  love,  of  light,  of  gentleness,  of  patience,  of 
goodness.  Worlv  mightily  in  us,  until  everything  that  is  offensive  to  thee  is  subdued; 
until  all  the  passages  of  our  nature  are  cleansed;  until  our  sins  are  taken  away,  and  all 
things  are  made  pure  and  sweet  before  thee.  So  grant  that  thy  work  may  abound  in 
every  one  of  us.  And  may  we  strive  thereto,  and  watch  therefor,  from  day  to  day,  liv- 
ing as  in  the  sight  of  that  blessed  vision  which  cannot  bo  far  from  any  of  us,  and  which 
is  near,  very  near,  to  some  of  us.  Grant,  O  Lor"*,  our  God,  that  wo  may  begin  to  feel 
the  drawing  of  that  world  toward  which  we  go;  and  may  we  more  and  more  look  away 
from  the  things  that  are  seen,  unto  the  things  that  are  inv.siblo.  More  and  more  may 
we  measure  the  things  with  which  we  dwell  from  day  to  day,  not  by  the  estimate  of  men, 
nor  by  their  worldly  value,  but  by  their  relations  to  our  immortality,  and  to  the  thought 
of  God,  and  to  the  opinion  of  those  that  are  to  be  our  companions  in  heaven. 

And  grant,  we  prny  thee,  that  our  households  may  be  sanctified.  Mav  our  inter- 
course glow  more  with  true  Christian  love  and  faithfulness  toward  one  another;  and 
may  we  be  bound  together  in  the  blessed  bond  and  fellowship  of  a  common  faith,  and 
learn  to  bear  one  another's  burdens;  learn  to  love  one  another;  learn  to  desire  one 
another's  welfare  as  much  as  our  own;  and  in  honor  to  prefer  one  another. 

And  grant  that  this  Church  may  be  filled  with  thy  presence,  and  be  an  honor  and 
glory  to  thy  name.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  all  thy  churches  of  every  name. 
May  the  truth  more  and  more  abound  in  them.  May  the  things  which  hinder  their  use- 
fulness be  taken  out  of  the  way.  May  there  prevail  a  co-operative  zeal  in  all  the  sects  of 
thy  one  church  upon  earth.  Let  thy  kingdom  in  which  dwelleth  righteousness  come 
among  all  nations.  Overturn  oppression  everywhere.  Destroy  ignorance,  which  is  the 
mother  thereof.  Grant  that  men  may  be  delivered  from  the  bond  of  superstition.  And 
may  men  grow  up  more  and  more  into  a  manhood  pure  and  full  of  goodness.  May  all 
the  earth  at  last  see  thy  salvation. 

"Which  we  ask  in  the  adorable  name  of  J>?sus,  to  whom,  with  the  Father  and  the 
Holy  Spirit,  shall  be  pr.iises  everlasting.    Amen. 


PRAYEU  AFTER  THE  SERTilON. 

Our  Father,  we  pray  that  thy  blessing  may  rest  upon  the  word  which  has  been 
Bpoken.  Thou  hast  wrought  in  the  greatness  of  thy  strength  as  one  that  traveled  alone 
in  the  wilderness  of  lime.  From  thee  has  come  all  the  strength  that  men  have  had. 
And  martyrs,  and  holy  men,  and  apostles,  and  confessors,  have  been  filled  with  thy 
light.  Borrowed  it  was,  and  their  strength  has  been  but  something  of  thine.  Thou  only 
bast  been  strong;  thou  only  hast  been  patient — tnou  that  art  upholding  the  heavens; 
thou  that  art  ransoming  the  earth.  Grant,  O  Lord  God  !  that  man's  opposition  may  bo 
laid  aside.  Oh  !  come  again  to  give  sight  to  the  blind,  thou  that  didst  heal  them  when 
upon  earth.  Touch  the  hearts  of  men,  and  bring  them  to  life,  thou  that  didst  raise  the 
dead.  Grant,  O  Lord  Jesus,  that  there  may  be  those  this  morning  who  shall  see  that 
life  is  going  ill  with  them;  that  their  habits  are  engro.-sing  them;  that  they  are  losing 
more  and  more  the  sensibility  of  things  sweet  and  pure  and  true  and  elevating.  And 
grant  that  they  may  search  their  hearts,  and  see  how  they  are  leading  lives  of  resistance 
to  God;  how  they  turn  themselves  away  from  the  law  of  spirituality;  how  they  are  not 
obedient  to  it,  neither  indeed  can  be.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  there  may  be  heart- 
searchings  among  all  of  us.  May  we  know  whether  wo  are  children  of  God  or  not; 
whether  Christ  is  precious  to  us  or  not;  whether  or  not  we  are  following  him  earnestly, 
and  longing  more  and  more  f  r  the  fulfillment  of  his  will  in  us.  May  our  houses  be  set 
in  order.  May  all  that  we  have  to  do  in  life  bo  done  quickly.  The  day  is  couiing.  The 
summons  is  out.  Already  tl.y  messcnjrers  are  on  the  wing  for  some  of  us.  Oh  !  grant 
that  we  may  not  be  caught  asleep,  or  unprepared.  And  when  the  sutumons  comes,  and 
we  are  called  to  go,  oh  !  grant, though  it  mny  seem  to  those  behind  as  the  setiin>_'  of  oni 
Ban,  it  may  seem  to  us  as  the  ri.'~ing  of  our  everlasting  day.  And  to  thy  name  shall  bs 
the  praise.  Father,  Son  and  Spirit.    Amen, 


XXIV. 

Perfect  Peace, 


INVOCATION. 

Look  upon  us  graciously  our  heavenly  Father !  and  by  all  thy  wisdom, 
and  by  all  thy  goodness  kindle  our  hearts.  For  we  are  thy  children. 
Though  babes,  though  beginners,  we  are  thine,  destined  to  bear  thy  full 
image  and  glory.  Grant  unto  us,  then,  according  to  the  riches  of  thy  good- 
ness, and  not  according  to  our  wisdom  in  asking,  nor  our  preparedness  in 
receiving.  Multiply  grace,  mercy  and  peace  unto  us.  And  now,  O  Lord  ! 
we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  office  of  Jevotion.  Assist  us  in 
the  office  of  instruction.  Guide  us  as  we  rejoice,  that  our  joy  may  mingle 
itself  with  thine.  May  we  find  thee  in  communion  of  prayer.  May  we  find 
thee  in  sacred  song.  May  we  find  thee  in  the  consolations  of  meditation, 
and  in  the  sanctuary,  and  in  our  own  consecrated  homes.  Grant  that  this 
day  may  be  filled  with  thy  spirit  and  presence.  Which  we  ask  for  Christ's 
sake.    Amen. 


PERFECT  PEACE. 


"  ■Whom  having  not  seen,  ye  love ;  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believing,  ye 
rpjoioe  with  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory:  receiving  the  end  of  yonr  faitli,  even  the  sal- 
vation of  your  soola." — 1  Pet.    I.  8,  9. 


This  passage  points  to  a  higher  form  of  experience  than  is  common 
among  Christians.  If  such  language  be  applied  to  the  earlier  experi- 
ences of  Christian  people,  it  will  discourage  them. 

When  a  young  botanist  brings  in  from  the  field  a  flower,  and  com- 
pares it  with  some  magnificent  drawing  of  the  same  flower ;  or  when 
he  chances  to  pluck  an  imperfect  flower  by  the  wayside,  too  early  de- 
veloped for  its  own  good,  frost-bitten,  and  dwarfed,  and  compares  it 
with  the  same  flower  as  it  has  been  developed  by  the  hand  of  skill  un- 
der glass,  or  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  in  the  garden, 
large,  glowing,  and  perfect,  he  is  tempted  to  thi'ow  away  his  specimen, 
and  say,  "  It  is  not  the  same  thing.  I  have  not  found  the  flower."  And 
yet,  it  is  the  same  thing,  though  the  stage  of  development  is  very  difler- 
ent. 

Nothing  is  more  discouraging  than  for  persons  to  attempt  to  measure 
their  experiences  in  the  Christian  life  by  taking  the  ultimate  and  final 
forms  which  moral  feelings  assume  after  a  life  of  inspiration  and  of 
providential  development,  and  comparing  the  nascent  states,  the  buds, 
the  earlier  blossoms,  with  the  later  stages,  and  making  these  later  stages 
a  test  of  the  reality  of  the  earlier  ones. 

It  is  true  that  there  is  an  unspeakahle  joy  in  Christian  hearts.  Thei-e 
Is  a  perfection  of  glory.  There  is  a  heavenly  gift — a  gift  which,  as  is 
declared  here,  is  the  very  end  of  our  hope.  And  it  is  salvation.  "Re- 
ceiving the  end  of  your  fiiith,  even  the  salvation  of  your  souls."  This 
glory,  this  gift  and  this  salvation  are  spoken  of  as  belonging  to  this 
jiresent  state  of  existence.     They  do  belong  to  it  % 

I  wish  to  speak,  this  morning,  upon  the  higher  conditions  of  Chi'is- 
tian  experience  in  this  life. 

We  ought  to  dismiss  from  our  minds,  entirely,  the  mechanical  idea 
of  conversion  and  experience,  as  if  Chiistians  were  so  many  gold  coins 

Sunday  Mobning,  Feb.  20,  1870.  Lesson:  Gal.  ILL  Htmnb  (Plymouth  Collection)  Nos. 
365,  430,  1262. 


386  PERFECT  PEACE. 

stamped  in  the  mint,  exactly  alike  in  weight,  in  figure,  in  letter,  in  mill- 
ing, and  in  every  other  element.  We  must  remember  that  Chi-istians 
are  infinitely  various.  We  should  understand  that  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  not  a  name  for  a  certain  outward  and  theoretic  system.  Nor  is 
it  a  name  for  a  prescribed  and  definite  round  of  experiences  that  may 
be  counted  and  perfectly  described. 

The  Christian  faith  is  our  name  for  all  living  experiences  which 
are  ever  bred  in  the  human  soul  by  the  power  of  God.  It  would  be 
just  as  inappropriate  to  say  that  music  was  simply  and  only  that  which 
had  been  thought  out  and  uttered  by  instruments  hitherto,  and  not  all 
that  ever  might  be  thought  out  by  new  geniuses  under  new  musical  in- 
spu-ation,  as  to  say  that  the  Christian  faith  was  merely  a  given  number 
of  doctrines,  or  a  given  number  of  usages,  or  a  given  line  and  ch'cle  of 
experiences. 

That  term.  Christian  faith,  signifies  the  possibility  of  the  human 
soul  under  the  divine  guidance  of  God  and  inspiration.  And  all  that 
is  ever  to  be  thought  aright,  all  that  ever  is  to  be  experienced  in  that 
direction  which  the  soul  takes  when  it  works  up  toward  its  God,  be- 
longs to  Christianity.  And  the  unuttered  parts  of  Christianity,  the  un- 
developed truths  of  Christianity,  which  are  to  come  through  human 
hearts  and  human  life,  I  fain  would  believe  are  the  major  parts. 

Hence,  whatever  the  soul  comes  to,  whatever  it  gai^s  or  legitimately 
develops,  under  the  divine  influence  and  guidance,  is  a  part  of  Chris 
tianity. 

Christianity  is  to  be  found  in  the  living  experiences  of  Christ's  elect, 
and  is  not  to  be  confounded  \nth.  what  has  been  felt.  It  includes  all 
the  possibilities  of  the  mind.  It  is  Christ  in  you  the  hope  of  glory, 
with  all  the  fruits  of  that  indwelling.  And  the  infinite  variety  of  such 
fruit  of  the  Spuit  can  be  imagined  in  no  way  so  well  as  by  the  infinite 
variety  of  the  products  of  the  sun,  varying  from  the  lichens  and  dwarfed 
shrubbeiy  of  the  Arctic  cu'cles,  with  the  increasing  warmth  of  every 
latitude,  to  the  magnificent  tropics.  All  these  things,  from  the  extreme 
north  to  the  equator,  are  children  of  the  sun. 

But,  though  variety  is  infinite  in  Christian  experience,  yet  it  is  all 
one.  It  is  all  the  friiit  of  the  Spirit  of  God  working  upon  the  quality 
or  faculty  of  the  human  soul. 

In  this  great  variety,  we  may  help  ourselves  by  some  classification. 
And  for  all  general  purposes  it  is  enough  to  say  that  true  Christian  life 
is  to  develop  itself,  or  to  fall,  under  one  of  three  heads  or  departments. 

1.  The  earliest  and  the  lowest  stage  is  that  of  conscience.  We  do 
not  generally  begin  our  Christian  life  at  the  point  of  love.  That  comes 
somewhat  later.  We  begin  to  think,  to  purpose,  to  strive,  to  pray,  un- 
der the  mingled  influence  of  fear  and  conscience.      Self-condemnation, 


PERFECT  PEACE.  387 

fear  of  consequences,  the  censure  of  our  better  moral  nature — these 
work  in  the  beginning,  and  bring  us  on  to  the  first  line  of  true  Christian 
exi^erionce. 

The  first  steps  of  Christian  life  in  this  lower  department,  are  those 
of  deliberate  choice.  The  lower  Christian  life  is  a  life  of  voluntary 
purpose  kept  up  every  day.  It  is  a  state  in  which  duty  is  the  main- 
spring. In  all  stages  of  religious  development,  duty  is  implied,  and 
duty  exists  in  some  form  or  other,  but  in  its  first  stage  it  has  preemi- 
nence,it  stands  out ;  it  is  the  master  motive  ;  it  is  the  one  ruling  thing. 
"What  is  right  ?  What  ouglit  I  to  do  ?  What  is  it  my  duty  to  do  ?" 
— tins  is  the  spirit  of  the  lower  or  first  stage  of  Christian  experience. 
We  forbear  a  thousand  things  because  we  ought  not  to  do  them.  We 
perform  many  things  that  have  no  sap  in  them  to  our  taste,  because 
we  ought  to  do  them.  We  keep  days  or  refuse  days,  we  keep  ordin- 
ances or  refuse  oi-dinances,  from  a  bare  sense  of  right  or  wi'ong,  as  the 
case  may  be.  And  we  are  called  at  every  hour,  and  at  every  rnoment, 
almost,  to  reject  some  things  on  purpose.  We  struggle  up  to  a  choice, 
and  say,  "  Thank  God  !  I  have  a  victory,  and  I  can  say  No."  We  put 
the  wrong  behind  us  ;  but  it  is  by  a  perpetual  efibrt.  We  are  at  the 
oar,  and  every  inch  that  we  make  upon  the  river  of  life  is  one  that  we 
pull  for.  We  have  no  current  yet,  and  very  little  wind  of  inspiration, 
to  drive  us  along.  It  is  work  of  the  arm  and  of  the  hand.  It  is  pur- 
pose, purpose,  PURPOSE,  all  the  way  through. 

It  is  in  this  stage  that  a  man  has  a  large  sense  of  morality.  Men 
look  upon  their  i-elations  one  to  another,  and  then-  relations  to  the 
world,  and  their  relations  to  God,  their  occupations,  and  the  duties 
growing  out  of  them ;  they  endeavor  to  accept  these  relations,  and 
theii-  consequent  duties,  as  the  law  of  life  ;  and  they  are  continually 
di-iving  up  their  performance  of  duties.  Thus  they  become  earnest ; 
they  become  self-exacting;  they  even  become  self-persecuting,  and 
sometimes  live  in  a  state  of  perpetual  self-condemnation  because  theu- 
sense  of  duty  is  more  keen  than  theu-  power  of  performance.  Then- 
ideal  is  flashing  ;  the  real  di-ags  behind,  and  is  dull. 

In  this  lower,  this  perfunctory  stage  of  Christian  experience,  when 
we  are  trying  to  do  well,  when  we  are  depending  upon  our  will  for  our 
ability  to  do  well,  and  when  we  march  up  to-  duties  and  assail  them  on 
purpose,  there  is  veiy  little  moral  intuition  in  our  life ;  very  little  in  • 
voluntariness ;  very  little  spontaneity ;  very  little  gush  and  unthoughtK)f 
outflow. 

In  terms,  God  may  be  the  Father  of  persons  in  this  condition  ;  the 
Saviour  may  be  their  pitying  Friend,  in  terms  ;  but  these  higher  con- 
ceptions are  occasional  only.  Men  watch  for  them ;  and  bless  the 
hour  when  they  really  have  them ;  but  they  do  not  find  these  their 


388  PERFECT  PEACE.  * 

constant  experience.  The  spirit  is,  that  God  is  a  master,  tf  not  even 
a  task -master ;  that  he  is  the  Judge,  the  Governor,  the  Law-maker,  and 
the  Magistrate  that  administers  law.  Men  live  in  a  state  of  responsi- 
bility ;  in  a  state  of  care  and  anxiety.  And  every  day  they  make  up 
their  account,  as  it  were.  Every  day  they  reckon  -with  themselves. 
Every  day  they  think  whether  they  have  a  right  to  be  at  peace  with 
God.  Every  day  they  are  under  condemnation.  And  every  day  they 
go  and  pray  it  away — they  do  not  know  how  or  why — till  they  feel 
better  again.  They  can  give  no  philosophy  of  the  change  which  they 
experience.  They  are  honest ;  they  are  earnest ;  they  have  set  their 
face  to  live  according  to  the  commands  of  Christ ;  they  have  begun  to 
find  out  a  gi'eat  many  of  those  commands ;  and  they  are  fighting  against 
theu"  passions,  and  their  old  habits,  and  the  influences  of  the  world,  to 
enable  them  to  do  it.  They  have  all  the  sovereignty  of  their  reason 
and  will  on  one  side,  and  are  hewing  their  way ;  but  it  is  all  work. 
Now  and  then  there  is  an  hour  of  lightness  and  of  joy.  They  do 
not  know  where  it  came  from,  or  why  it  went  away ;  but  they  are  very 
thankful  for  it. 

The  main  principle  is  this — bracing  up,  and  saying,  "I  have  begun 
or  found  the  Christian  course.  Oh  !  that  I  may  be  faithful  to  the  end. 
Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  hold  out.  I  will  persevere.  Get  thee  behind 
me,  Satan.  I  am  a  warrior."  That  is  the  spirit  in  which  they  live, 
fighting  for  the  right ;  fighting  for  duty  ;  fighting  to  keep  their  vows 
and  covenants ;  pressing  upward  ;  often  overthrown  ;  often  overcome  ; 
often  driven  back  ;  but  maintaining  this  battle  and  struggle  of  life  in- 
cessantly. And  it  is  a  life  in  which,  the  clearer  your  reason,  and  the 
more  exacting  your  conscience,  the  more  wretched  you  are.  Woe  be 
to  that  man  who  ever  matches  himself  against  his  own  ideal !  Woe  be 
to  that  man  who  is  clear-eyed  to  see  the  invisible,  and  attempts  to  make 
the  visible  and  the  ^eal  a  portraiture  of  it.  It  is  the  seventh-of -Romans 
exj)erience  over  again  m  every  man's  life, 

2.  Out  of  this  stage,  sometimes  by  one  histoiy,  and  sometimes  by 
another,  people  emerge  into  a  second  one,  and  a  very  much  higher  one 
— one  in  which  they  have  heard  Christ  saying  to  them,  "  Henceforth  I 
call  you,  not  servants,  but  friends."  They  have  been  God's  hired  men ; 
they  have  been  working  on  his  farm ;  they  meant  to  work  all  the  time  ; 
they  gave  him  the  advantage  of  all  that  they  possessed ;  they  were 
faithful  to  his  property ;  they  attempted  to  be  good,  honest  workmen 
and  servants  of  the  Lord  Jesus — with  an  emphasis  on  the  word  ser- 
vants ;  they  endeavored  to  do  their  duty  fully.  But  there  comes  a  time 
when  they  are  called  out  of  the  field,  and  out  of  the  cottage,  into  the 
mansion.  And  the  Master  of  the  mansion  says  to  them,  "  Henceforth 
I  call  you  not  seiTants;"  and  takes  them  by  the  hand,  saying,  "I 


PERFECT  PEACE.  -  380 

call  yon  friends."  And  tliey  are  friends  thereafter.  They  are  now  con 
soions  tliat  their  feet  have  been  placed  on  a  different  footing;  tliey 
think  diO'erently  of  him,  and  feel  differently  toward  him.  And  ihey 
live  diflerently. 

It  is  this  second  stage  that  is  the  terniinns  of  most  Christian  experi- 
ence— even  of  that  which  is  ecstatic  and  high.  Of  that  stage  I  will  give 
a  few  words  of  explanation. 

It  is  a  stage  of  experience  which  does  not  do  away  with  a  sense  of 
dnty,  or  of  morality,  or  of  conscience ;  bnt  it  finds  a  motive  power 
higher  than  it  has  had  before,  by  which  men  can  perform  duty  and 
keejD  conscience. 

In  old  times,  when  women  wonld  have  bread,  they  sat  down  to 
their  hand-mill,  and  worked  the  stone,  themselves  grinding;  and  they 
got  by  exercise  the  digestion  which  they  needed  for  theu'  food.  And 
that  was  a  great  deal  better  than  staiwing.  But  now,  when  men  want 
meal,  or  flour,  mills  are  arranged  in  just  the  same  way,  so  far  as  the 
stone  is  concerned.  There  has  not  been  any  improvement  in  that  for 
four  thousand  years.  It  grinds  on  precisely  the  same  principle  to-day 
that  it  did  in  the  Arab  tents,  or  on  the  plains  of  Syria.  But  the  mo- 
tive i^ower  has  changed.  First  came  wind.  That  was  better  than  the 
hand  of  man.  Afterwards  came  water.  And  now  vapor  is  used.  The 
difference  is  not  that  grinding  has  ceased,  or  that  the  principle  of 
grinding  has  changed,  but  sim^^ly  that  the  motive-power  has  changed, 
so  that  we  now  grind  more,  and  grind  better,  and  grind  with  ten  thous- 
and times  less  effort,  than  men  used  to. 

In  the  beginnings  of  Christian  life  men  grind  their  own  food,  by 
their  own  hands,  and  work  for  it.  When  they  come  into  a  higher 
stage,  the  difference  is  not  that  the  food  or  the  grinding  is  dispensed 
«vith.  There  is  just  the  same  sense  of  duty  and  moral  rectitude  ;  there 
is  just  the  same  sense  of  endeavor ;  but  there  is  a  higher  inspiration  by 
svhich  the  work  is  done  ;  there  is  a  new  class  of  feelings  that  rise  up 
md  become  the  motive-power  of  the  soul. 

It  is  that  stage  in  which  love  and  hope  become  the  true  motive- 
power.  Men  rise  so  far  toward  God  in  conception  and  sympathy  that 
♦Iiey  begin  to  be  conscious  that  the  divine  nature  quickens  in  them, 
more  than  anything  else,  the  love  and  hope  principle.  So  that  they 
have  all  the  trust,  all  the  familiarity  and  all  the  power  that  comes  from 
love  ;  and  they  have  all  the  buoyancy  and  cheerfulness  and  hope  that 
comes  from  the  future.  And  when  hope  and  love  predominate,  they 
do  not  destroy  conscience.  They  merely  cover  it  down.  In  the  be- 
ginning of  Christian  life  conscience  is  like  a  man's  skeleton.  A  skele- 
ton is  indispensable ;  but  a  man  is  not  comely  who  has  nothing  but 
that     It  is  not  until  love  and  hope  begin  to  give  flesh  and  skin  that 


390  PERFE  CT  FEA  CE. 

cover  tlie  hard  skeleton,  that  the  Christian  life  takes  on  fair  propor- 
tions. The  backbone  is  there,  and  ought  to  be ;  the  other  bones  are 
there,  and  cannot  be  dispensed  with ;  but  they  are  hidden,  they  are 
covered,  and  men  are  beautiful  in  life. 

In  Christian  experience,  then,  you  will  never  lose  out  conscience, 
or  the  sense  of  right.  It  is  fundamental.  It  is  a  part  of  the  inherent 
frame-work  of  the  human-soul,  without  which  love  would  have  nothing 
to  hang  itself  on — without  which  there  would  be  no  place  for  flesh,  no 
place  for  skin,  and  no  place  for  color. 

But  as,  in  life,  we  are  not  accustomed  to  think  of  each  other  ana- 
tomically, thank  God,  as  the  sum  of  lungs,  and  stomach  and  liver,  and 
what  not ;  as  we  are  accustomed  to  take  each  other  in  apparent  unity, 
without  analysis  ;  so  in  Christian  life  we  come  to  a  state  in  which  we 
do  not  think  of  conscience,  or  morality,  or  this  and  that  thing  which  is 
right.  We  come  under  the  inspii-ation  of  love  and  hope,  which  are 
themselves  a  nobler  way  of  working  out  these  consciences  and  moral- 
ities than  any  other. 

This  a  more  buoyant  and  more  fruitful  state  of  mind,  and  one  that 
is  more  faithful,  a  thousand  times,  than  the  other.  There  probably 
never  was  a  better  sense  of  exact  right  and  wrong  than  you  shall  find 
in  many  nurses  who,  going  out  to  service,  take  the  child,  and  love  it  a 
good  deal,  and,  by  night  and  by  day,  suflTer  for  it  all  that  must  be  suf- 
fered if  it  is  to  be  raised  to  vulue  and  excellence.  The  great  principle 
of  vicarious  atonement  is  the  condition  of  all  growth  in  human  life. 
It  is  figured  to  us  again  in  each  one  of  every  household  on  earth. 
That  which  Christ  did  for  the  universe,  and  set  forth  on  the  grandest 
pattern,  is  hinted  at  and  reproduced  and  symbolized  in  every  man,  in 
similar  ways,  and  everywhere.  And  whoever  biings  up  a  child,  sufiers 
for  that  child.  And  nurses  will  suffer  for  a  child  in  bringing  it  up,  on 
the  principle  of  fidelity,  as  gloriously  as  that  principle  can  be  applied. 
But  the  mother  stands  by  ;  and  the  child  falls  sick  ;  and  then  will  she 
trust  that  child  to  fidelity  ?  There  is  no  more  self-denying  creature 
than  its  nurse.  She  will  lie  awake  with  it  night  after  night,  and  min- 
ister to  its  every  want.  But  that  will  not  do.  There  is  nothing  like 
the  mother.  And  what  is  the  difference  between  a  mother  and  a  nurse  ? 
With  the  exception  of  the  difference  which  there  is  between  the  prin- 
ciple of  love  and  the  principle  of  conscience  or  fidelity,  they  are  just 
alike.  But  O  !  the  mother  has  a  fountain  of  love  which  no  nurse  can 
have  till  she  is  a  mother.  It  is  that  love  which  is  the  higher  power. 
Out  of  it,  unconsciously,  comes  fruit.  Out  of  it  come  noble  influ- 
ences that  you  never  can  get  by  mere  purpose,  or  forethought,  or 
volition.  It  is  the  intuition  of  love,  it  is  the  spontaneity  of  love,  it  is 
the  creative  power  of  love,  that  make  it  superior  to  any  lower  forms 


PERFECT  PEACE.  391 

of  life.  And  if  Christians  can  gain  such  a  view  of  Deity — (the  poorest 
word  in  the  language  by  which  to  represent  God !  I  never  knew  any- 
body in  this  world  that  Avorshipped  only  a  vague  and  generic  concep- 
tion of  God  in  the  Father.  I  never  knew  anybody  to  come  to  clasping 
love  of  God  except  where  he  was  represented  through  the  personation 
of  Christ  Jesus.  That  manifestation  of  the  divine  Being  is  just 
adapted  to  our  want.  It  exactly  fits  our  nature.  Toward  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  as  our  God,  every  heart  can  floAv  out.  There  is  a  possi- 
bility of  a  love  toward  Christ  which  shall  transcend  every  other,  and 
be  fruitful  of  religious  experience,  and  a  helpfulness,  that  you  never 
can  get  from  the  dominancy  of  conscience,  or  from  the  controlling 
influence  of  reason,  or  from  voluntariness,  in  any  man's  Christian  life) 
— but,  when  Christians  can  come  into  this  state  of  love  and  hope,  if 
they  can  advance  to  this  middle  stage  of  experience,  fear  in  all  its  lower 
forms  ceases  entirely.  Fear  never  ceases,  and  never  ought  to  cease ; 
but  it  rises  and  becomes  an  inspiration  of  higher  qTialities. 

You  can  use  a  mallet  or  hammer  in  two  ways.  You  can  smite  with 
it  du-ectly  on  the  substance — the  wood  or  the  metal ;  or  you  can  take 
it  as  a  force  and  strike  against  the  handle  of  some  other  instrument ; 
and  then  it  lends  its  force  to  the  awl,  or  the  chisel,  or  whatever  tool 
you  may  be  using. 

So  our  basilar  passions,  the  powers  of  our  lower  nature,  we  may  use 
dnectly,  in  the  form  of  temper  or  appetite  or  inclination  ;  or  they  may 
be  otherwise  turned  to  account,  and,  like  a  hammer  or  mallet,  be  made 
to  strike  against  higher  faculties  or  emotions,  so  that  they  shall  lend 
theii"  force  to  those.  Thus  conscience  may  become  intoned  by  the 
stroke  of  the  lower  feelings,  hope  may  become  strengthened  by  the 
stroke  of  the  lower  feelings,  all  the  higher  feelings  may  become  ener- 
gized by  the  stroke  of  the  lower  feelings,  which  cease  to  have  their 
own  direct  stroke,  but  merely  lend  themselves,  as  a  hammer  or  mallet, 
to  the  higher  feelings.  Fear,  for  instance,  never  ceases  to  act,  though 
it  ceases  to  act  directly.  It  works  on  the  conscience,  to  make  it 
sharper.  It  works  upon  hope,  and  makes  it  more  earnestly  solicitous. 
It  works  upon  love,  and  makes  it  more  anxious,  and  fills  it  with  tremu- 
lousness  of  solicitude  lest  it  should  not  be  strong  enough,  and  disinter- 
ested enough.  And  thus  fear  dies  out  by  giving  strength  to  the  higher 
feelings,  and  giving  strength  to  them  each  of  its  own  spirit  and  kind. 
But  as  to  the  original  principle  of  fear  in  its  'own  masterhood,  it  dies. 

In  this  second  stage  of  Christian  experience  of  which  I  am  speaking, 
duty  is  converted  to  inclination.  Duties  remain,  and  men  perform  them 
as  duties ;  but  they  become  pleasures.  And  they  are  more  and  more 
automatic.  Habit  at  last  converts  the  gi'eater  part  of  our  life  into  the 
joy  and  the  glory  of  active  involnntai'inesa.     And  involunlariness  is 


392  PERFECT  PEACE. 

the  test  of  all  excellence.  No  man  does  anylhing  well  who  does  it  on 
purpose.  As  long  as  he  is  obliged  to  do  it  on  purpose,  it  is  done  poorly. 
It  is  not  until  a  person  can  do  a  thing  without  thinking  that  he  can  do 
it  perfectly.  No  man  that  studies  the  stroke  which  he  makes  is  likely 
to  make  it  skilfully.  No  painter  who  has  to  think  how  to  combine 
his  pigments,  and  then  has  to  think  how  and  where  they  are  to  go  on, 
can  be  a  true  artist.  No  engraver  who  has  to  watch  with  his  mind 
every  movement  of  the  burin,  is  a  genius  in  his  pi'ofession.  The  true 
workman  always  does  the  work  first,  and  then  follows  and  s<jes  why 
he  did  it,  and  reasons  upon  it. 

And  as  it  is  in  physical  things,  so  it  is  in  moral.  Though  there  is 
a  stage  in  which  we  are  obliged  to  think,  and  then  do,  it  is  the  earlier 
one ;  and  the  next  stage  is  that  in  which  we  do  the  thing  spontane- 
ously, without  thinking.  And  in  Christian  life  it  is  so.  When  a  man 
has  risen  to  that  state  of  love  and  hoj^efulnoss  which  breeds  in  him  all 
divine  sympathies,  and  all  human  sympathies  ;  when  he  has  all  diligent 
continuance  in  well-doing;  when  he  has  drilled  himself  so  that  he  is 
gentle,  and  sweet-minded,  and  humble,  and  soft-voiced,  and  gracious, 
and  charitable  in  consideration  of  other  men's  thoughts,  and  full  of 
peacefulness,  and  full  of  that  disposition  which  bears  cordial  to  men 
according  as  they  have  it ;  when  by  the  summer  of  love  he  is  ripened 
into  these  things  till  he  performs  all  kind  offices  without  thinking — 
then  he  has  risen  to  the  state  of  spontaneity  in  Christian  life.  And  if 
you  meet  such  a  man,  and  ask  him,  "  Do  you  do  your  duty  T  he  will 
say,  "  Duties  ?  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  any  duties."  What  has 
become  of  his  duties  ?  What  are  duties  ?  First,  manure  at  the  bottom 
of  the  vine,  spaded  in — and  by  hard  work  at  that.  In  the  alembic  of 
the  roots  it  is  caught  up,  and  refined,  and  sejDarated,  and  hidden,  and 
lost ;  and  it  ascends  in  the  sap.  And  Ave  begin  to  see  it  next  in  the  leaf. 
And  how  different  it  is  now  from  what  it  was  as  it  lay  as  a  black  mould 
at  the  bottom  !  It  is  transformed.  But  go  on.  Now  it  is  the  fragrant 
blossom.  Oh !  how  small !  but  oh !  how  sweet !  Wait  a  little.  Now 
it  is  the  pui-ple  cluster,  full  of  rich  juices.  The  sun  has  wrought  it, 
and  the  dews  have  baptized  it.  It  is  a  child  of  the  summer,  most  beau- 
tiful to  behold.  Yet  there  below  is  the  father.  It  started  from  duty, 
which,  by  the  invisible  influence  of  love,  has  worked  itself  up,  until  at 
last  it  has  taken  on  the  forms  of  clustering  beauty  and  admirable  uses. 

So  in  life  men  take  on  things  fii'st  because  they  ought  to  ;  at  length 
they  practice  them  because  they  like  to ;  and  finally  they  do  them 
because  they  do  not  think  anything  about  them.  But^  subtly,  at  the 
bottom,  there  is  the  sense  and  act  and  fact  of  duty. 

"  Let  me  wash  my  own  babe,"  says  the  little  impatient  mother. 
Since  it  is  the  first  and  only  one,  it  is  the  most  admu-able  of  all  created 


PERFECT  PEA  CE.  393 

tilings !  "Let  me  do  it."  And  yet,  methinkg  about  four  years  ago, 
when  this  maiden  was  requested  to  do  that  very  act,  she  snarled  her 
pretty  face  because  it  was  so  disagreeable  and  tedious,  washing  a  babe 
that  was  squirming,  and  running,  and  full  of  playful  ugliness.  But 
now  that  it  is  her  child,  she  will  not  let  anybody  wash  it  for  her.  It  is 
her  blossoming  hour,  it  is  her  day-star  hour,  in  which  she  is  permitted 
to  perform  offices  that  she  once  thought  were  burdensome.  They  are 
just  as  much  duties  now  as  they  were  before ;  only  she  is  working 
from  a  plane  so  much  higher,  that  she  does  not  think  of  them  as  duties. 
But  if  she  should  lose  the  gladness,  she  would  come  down  a  peg ;  and  if 
she  should  lose  fidelity,  she  would  come  down  another  peg;  and  by  and 
by  she  would  strike  the  old  sense  of  duty.  There  it  is,  down  at  the 
bottom  ;  only,  spontaneity  has  cushioned  it,  and  put  springs  over  it. 
She  is  working  from  a  motive  so  high  that  she  has  lost  sight  of  duty ; 
but  the  duty  is  waiting  to  catch  her  if  she  falls. 

And  so  in  Christian  life,  duty  is  never  obliterated.  The  higher 
feelings  may  work  so  much  quicker  and  easier  as  to  outrun  duty  ;  but 
it  is  a  reser^-e  force,  latent,  coiled  up  like  a  spring,  below.  And  we 
ai-e  doing  our  work  in  life  by  the  forces  of  love,  of  foith,  and  of  hope, 
with  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 

In  this  stage  it  is,  when  persons  have  come  thoroughly  into  it,  that 
all  holy  exercises,  all  Christian  graces,  all  activities  and  labors,  all  suf- 
ferings and  trials,  become  first  joyful,  then  spontaneous,  and  finally 
habitual.  It  is  in  this  stage  that  we  pass  into  that  state  which  we  call 
the  state  of  liberty,  the  state  of  adoption,  of  which  the  Scripture 
speaks.  We  are  the  children  of  God,  and  live  at  home,  and  are  never 
afraid  to  see  our  Father's  fiice,  and  are  always  glad  to  hear  His  voice. 
We  dwell  in  His  presence,  and  there  is  nobody  that  we  love  so  much 
as  we  do  Him.  We  are  children,  and  live  at  home,  and  have  liberty. 
This  is  considered  an  eminent  state  of  Christian  attainment ;  and 
it  is ;  for  it  is  itself  an  advanced  step  in  a  long  line  of  defrees. 

3.  Now  the  question  comes,  "  Is  there  anything  higher  than  this  ?" 
Yes.  There  is  a  stage  that  is  higher  than  this  ;  and  it  is  just  as 
marked,  just  as  definite  and  certain,  as  this  middle  stage  is  certain  and 
definite  and  marked  above  the  elementary  or  preliminary  one.  As  love 
and  hope  created  an  entirely  difierent  development  of  experience  from 
that  which  was  developed  by  conscience,  or  fear,  which  is  characteristic 
of  the  initial  and  earlier  state,  so  there  is  a  later  state,  which  is  more 
difficult  to  describe,  but  which  I  shall  try  to  hint  and  define. 

It  is  a  state  in  which  the  whole  soul  has  been  carried  up  to  the 
higliest  degree.  In  this  state  the  soul  has  been  trained,  it  has  been 
practiced,  it  has  been  habituated,  in  the  highest  forms  of  moral  attain- 
ment, until  it  has,  as  a  part  of  its  daily  experience,  a  transcendent  per- 


394  PERFECT  PEA  CE. 

ception  of  divine  being — soul,  and  reason  and  imaginf^lion  ;  until  it 
not  only  sees  God  by  voluntary  thought,  but  sees  him  everywhere  in- 
voluntarily;  until  the  world  itself  changes,  as  it  were,  its  formation, 
and  everything  bears  the  impress  of  the  divine.  As  the  poet  sees  all 
natural  objects  in  the  light  of  beauty  ;  as  the  artist  sees  all  things  in 
nature  in  the  line  of  art ;  as  the  mechanic  sees  the  forces  and  princi- 
ples in  the  material  world  in  the  light  of  mechanical  laws  ;  as  the  scien- 
tist looks  upon  nature  in  relation  to  his  science  ;  so  there  is  a  state  of 
mind  in  which  everything  that  exists  in  nature  and  society  suggests  to 
the  soul  the  sense  of  God.  All  things  reflect  him.  They  are  symbols 
of  him.  Every  voice  has  something  of  the  divine  voice.  Every  form 
of  glory  brings  something  of  the  divine  to  the  mind.  Everything  that 
is  great  or  little  draws  the  soul  toward,  and  not  away  from,  the  divine 
Being,  till  one  can  say,  "  He  fills  the  heavens  ;  he  fills  the  earth  ;  he 
fills  the  body  ;  he  fills  the  soul ;  and  my  life  is  hid  in  his  life.  My  life 
is  but  a  taper  ;  His  life  is  the  sun  ;  and  what  taper  can  be  seen  while 
the  sun  is  abroad  in  the  day  ?" 

Then  the  invisible  spirit  land  becomes  more  potential  than  the  in- 
visible and  material  one,  to  those  that  have  risen  into  this  higher  state. 
Their  thoughts  are  so  used  to  conversing  with  things  that  are  not  pres- 
ent, but  that  lie  beyond;  they  dwell  so  much  in  the  other  world  ;  their 
treasure  has  been  so  long  there  ;  theii'  imagination  has  become  so  ac- 
customed to  winging  its  flights  over  the  celestial  city,  or  within  it,  that 
the  soul  has  formed  the  habit  of  living  in  the  sphere  of  the  invisible 
and  spiritual.  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  where  Christ  sit- 
teth  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  has  become  not  so  much  a  rule  as  an 
experience  with  them,  and  they  live  in  the  unseen. 

With  this  comes  «  change  which  is  more  difficult  to  describe,  but 
which  is  in  its  effect  of  transcendent  value.  I  mean  that  by  which 
man's  will  becomes  coincident  with,  or  swallowed  up  in,  the  will  of 
God.  I  do  not  mean  that  one's  will  as  the  antithesis  of  compliance,  or 
as  the  expression  of  selfishness,  bows  down  to  a  sense  of  rectitude,  to 
a  sense  of  beauty,  or  to  a  sense  of  excellency — though  that  is  included 
in  it ;  I  do  not  mean  that  one's  conscious  personality  is  ever  lost ;  but 
I  do  mean  that  there  is  a  state  in  which  one's  soul  is  consciously  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  soul  of  God.  I  Jcnoio  it  is  so.  I  have  felt  it,  and  I 
see  the  analogies  of  it  on  every  side. 

Nothing  is  more  common  than  selfish  love.  Nothing  is  more  com- 
mon than  that  lower  form  of  love  in  our  social  relations  which  enriches, 
to  be  sure,  and  shines  upon  the  path  of  life,  and  brings  many  fruits 
that  are  most  desirable  to  the  touch  and  taste;  and  yet, it  is  a  lower 
form  of  love.  There  is  no  true  love  but  that  which  tends  to  obliterate 
the  sense  of  personality,  so  that  persons'  natures  intersphere ;  so  that 


PERFECT  PEACE.  395 

there  is  almost  no  conscious  personality  in  conripanions  of  a  honsehokl, 
theii'  reasons  being  consentaneous,  their  moral  affections  moving  them 
to  mutual  sympathy,  their  feelings  twining  together,  so  that  they  can 
say,   "  Our  lives  are  separate,  and  yet  they  are  one,  and  Ave  are  one." 

There  never  can  be  this  oneness  of  life  so  far  as  the  body  is  con- 
cerned. If  there  is  anything  that  is  a  unit,  it  must  be  the  spirit.  And 
there  is  such  unity  in  rare  instances  on  earth.  There  are  natures  that 
know  even  in  their  mortal  relations  what  it  is  to  be  so  identified  with 
another's  being,  that  without  that  other  they  wither  and  die.  Their 
roots  grow  together ;  all  their  vitality  is  in  them  ;  they  live  by  them 
while  they  live  ;  and  when  one  is  taken  the  other  cannot  long  remain. 
Such  persons,  left  behind,  are  not  heart-broken.  They  arc  merely 
like  a  plant  that  bleeds  to  death,  being  cut  from  its  own  root. 

Now,  that  state  which  we  rarely  see  among  men,  but  which  we 
know  is  possible  because  we  see  the  conditions  of  it  in  life — how  much 
more  is  it  possible  wdiere  God  is  the  Lover ;  where  the  soul  may  be 
magnetized,  fired,  and  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  with  the  presence  of 
God,  so  that  its  reason,  and  moral  sentiments,  and  aficctions,  and  yearn- 
ings for  purity  and  glory  and  immortality,  are  met  in  the  bosom  of  the 
divine  fullness,  and  we  are  scarcely  separable  from  Ilim  in  whom  we 
live. 

Out  of  this  state  there  come  intuitions  and  ecstatic  bursts  of  expe- 
rience that  cannot  be  written.  There  have  been  beautiful  strains  of 
poetry,  beautiful  hymns,  that  are  angelic  in  theh  ministi'ation,  and  will 
be  as  long  as  the  world  lasts;  but  the  unwritten  thoughts,  and  the  un- 
"wi'itten  feelings  overmatch  the  vocal  hymns.  What  men  have  thought 
and  felt  is  immeasurably  beyond  what  they  can  express.  There  have 
been  souls  in  which  the  calm,  the  peace,  did  pass  all  understanding, 
and  into  which  God  did  come,  and  abide  and  sup,  as  Christ  promised 
that  he  would.  There  have  been  souls  that  have  been  conscious  that 
they  carried  then*  Christ  with  them  day  and  night.  They  have  lived  in 
such  a  state  that  he  dwelt  in  them.  It  may  be  overclouded,  just  as  our 
life  is  by  the  period  of  sleep;  but  as,  though  we  have  lost  oui-  life  in 
sleej),  we  wake  up  again,  so,  though  this  state  may  be  overclouded  by 
care  and  duty,  and  may  for  a  moment  intermit,  it  returns.  And  these 
persons  abide  in  it,  identified  with  God,  living  in  the  very  highest  realm 
of  sphitual  feeling  and  spiritual  intuition,  not  flu*,  I  believe,  from  com- 
merce with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  The  distance  be- 
tween the  soul  and  the  other  life  being  reduced  to  a  mere  abstraction, 
as  it  were,  they  live  upon  the  borders  of  the  heavenly  land. 

Here,  then,  are  these  three  stages :  the  first,  which  I  call  the  stage 
of  straggle  ;  the  second,  which  I  call  the  stage  of  victory,  which  fol- 
lows struggle ;  and  the  third,  which  I  call  the  stage  of  peace,  which 
follows  victory.     These  are  the  three  great  groups  of  experiences  into 


396  PERFECT  PEACE. 

which  I  should  divide  the  Christian  life.     "With  regard  to  the  thu-d, 
many  (ijuestions  will  arise. 

In  the  first  place,  is  this  last  experience  a  gift  of  God,  or  is  it  some- 
thmg  that  is  wrought  out  in  us  ?  Both.  I  believe  that  God  sends  into 
this  life  priests.  As  he  sends  into  this  world  men  equipped  to  teach  by 
poetry,  and  they  are  born  for  that  long  before  the  school  finds  them ;  as 
he  sends  into  this  world  men  that  are  mechanics,  men  that  are  musi- 
cians, and  men  that  are  orators,  and  that  are  born  to  their  i-espective 
spheres  of  labor ;  so  I  believe  God  sends  men  that  are  to  be  the  illumi- 
nators of  the  world  in  things  spiritual,  and  that  they  are  born  to  it. 
As  in  the  case  of  the  prophets,  by  their  own  declarations ;  as  in  the  case 
of  Jeremiah,  who  declares  that  he  was  called,  a  prophet  from  his  moth- 
er's womb,  having  the  adaptation  in  his  birth ;  so  there  are  men  who  are 
called  to  be  spiritual  leaders — men  adapted  to  this  higher  stage  of 
Chi'istian  development — men  born  to  it.  And  the  moment  they  are 
born  into  Christ  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  they  pass,  as  it  were, 
understandingly,  through  the  period  of  struggle.  And  they  do  notj  tar- 
ry in  the  realm  of  victory — on  the  middle  ground  ;  they  rise  at  once 
into  the  higher  stage  of  perfect  peace,  and  of  wondi'ous  insight  and 
intuition  and  glory. 

And  these  are  the  men  that  ought  to  lead  the  world.  These  are  the 
men  that  stand  to  give  to  our  ideals  something  more  definite,  and  to 
show  us  Avhat  we  are  to  strive  for.  Out  of  that  higher  realm  of  expe- 
I'ience  they  ought  to  speak  truths  which  shall  take  away  the  coarseness 
of  our  lower  forms  of  truth,  and  which  shall  fill  up  the  thouglit  of  the 
IJhristian  church  and  of  Christian  experience  with  the  more  heavenly 
rionceptions  which  belong  to  them.  They  are  born  to  it.  And  Christ 
serves  himself  by  sanctifying  them,  enlightening  them,  and  bringing 
them  into  then*  true  sphere  and  function  in  this  life.  He  glorifies  him- 
self by  such  persons,  the  greatest  number  of  whom  have  come  to  this 
state,  by  first  going  through  the  process  of  volition,  and  then  develop- 
ing, from  stage  to  stage,  the  difierent  Christian  conditions.  A  man  may 
be  born  into  the  Christian  life  by  the  stage  of  struggle.  He  may  be 
for  years  and  years  fighting  his  passions,  and  fighting  his  cu'cumstances. 
But  by-and-by  there  comes  to  him  a  glorious  day  of  insight  and  deliv- 
erance. In  the  hour  of  prayer,  it  may  be,  or  in  the  great  congregation, 
or  in  some  sounding  afiliction,  or  in  some  walk  or  meditation,  Christ 
Jesus  rises  before  him  in  a  way  that  he  never  has  seen  him  before,  fill- 
inf  the  heaven,  filling  infinite  spheres,  filling  his  soul,  and  by  his  blessed 
power  lifting  him  above  the  struggling  stage,  and  into  the  stage  of  vic- 
tory, so  that  he  says,  "  By  faith  I  live,  and  by  faith  I  will  live  all  the 
rest  (if  my  days." 

And  so  he  goes  on  for  years  and  years,  until  at  last,  at  some  blessed 


PEBFEGT  PEACE.  397 

toacL,  and  in  some  blessed  hour,  he  knows  not  when  nor  how,  he  ris<33 
into  the  upper  state,  mid  linds,  without  thought  or  eifort,  that  trans- 
cendent pcaccfulness,  that  wondrous  comnuinion,  that  exhalation  of  tlie 
soul,  all  of  whose  tendencies  are  now  upward,  so  that  he  lives  in  the 
bosom  of  his  God. 

Thus  he  has  gone  through  the  regular  periods  of  evolution,  and  has 
come  to  that  higher  stage. 

But  may  anybody  come  to  it?  Yes,  anybody.  In  its  fullest  form? 
No.  But  to  every  man,  according  as  God  has  ministered  the  gift  to 
him,  to  every  man  according  to  his  own  order,  to  eveiy  man  according 
to  his  own  created  capacity,  this  is  the  last,  as  it  is  a  proper  develop- 
ment of  Christian  life.  First  there  is  the  struggle,  next  there  is  the 
victory,  and  last  there  is  the  coronation  of  peace.  And  no  man  should 
think  of  himself  as  having  completed  his  Christian  course  if  he  is  in  the 
first ;  until  he  has  passed  on  to  the  second ;  until  he  has  progressed  out 
of  the  second,  and  come  triumphantly  into  the  third.  For  his  own 
soul's  sake,  for  the  church's  sake,  and  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  that 
God  who  has  called  him,  he  should  not  stop  short  of  this  highest  stage. 

Is  this,  then,  what  men  mean  when  they  talk  so  much  of  perfection 
in  this  life  ?  Is  this  what  men  mean  when  they  talk  of  entire  sanc- 
tification  in  this  life  ?  Is  this  what  men  mean  when  they  talk  of  holi- 
ness in  this  life,  or  of  then*  complete  salvation  from  sin  in  this  life  ? 
Yes,  it  is  just  what  they  mean.  I  do  not  believe  a  word  in  their  phi- 
losophy, but  I  believe  entirely  in  then-  facts.  If  you  talk  of  human 
perfection,  I  do  not  believe  in  it.  There  is  no  perfection  here  below. 
If  you  talk  of  entire  release  from  sin  in  this  world,  I  do  not  believe  in 
that.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  man  lives  who  docs  not  sin  sometimes. 
But  if  you  talk  of  a  man  as  raised  up  to  that  state  in  which  to  him 
legality  is  ended,  in  which  he  thinks  of  himself  as  not  any  more  a  sub- 
ject of  law,  but  as  a  subject  of  liberty  and  of  love,  I  believe  iu  that. 

Why,  you  keep  accounts  where  you  get  your  groceries  ;  you  keep 
accounts  in  your  lower,  fretting  life  ;  but  what  daughter  ever  kept  a 
running  account  of  love  with  her  mother's  heart,  as  they  sit  together, 
and  sing  together,  and  talk  together,  and  work  together,  till  they  learn 
to  twine  then-  affections  round  each  other,  and  live  in  each  other,  and 
by  each  other?  What  po'^sible  thought  of  law  could  come  into  such  a 
life  ?  Who  ever  thinks  of  keeping  accounts,  or  measuring,  in  the  sphere 
ot  love  ?     Love  has  its  own  way,  its  own  liberty. 

And  the  moment  a  man  rises  into  this  higher  Ftate,  in  which  his 
life  is  suffused  by  love,  and  God  pours  in  streams  his  life  down  upon 
the  soul,  he  does  not  think  of  law  anymore,  or  transgression  any  more; 
lie  no  more  thinks  ab«ut  whether  he  is  perfect  or  not.  This  third  and 
last  stage  of  Chiistian  experience  in  this  world  is  one  in  which  we  ai'e 


398  PERFECT  PEA  CE. 

BO  swallowed  up  in  the  consciousness  of  God's  goodness,  and  nearness, 
and  sweetness  and  love,  that  we  do  not  think  much  about  oui*selves. 
Our  life  is  in  Christ.  And  we  are  not  all  the  time  ferretting  out  trans- 
gressions, or  looking  at  this  or  that  wrong  that  we  have  done.  If  we 
committed  sins,  we  should  be  sinking  down  into  that  lower  state  where 
conscience  would  catch  us,  and  then  we  should  have  condemnation 
enough.  But  so  long  as  we  are  living  in  this  state  of  liberty  and 
higher  development,  though  we  are  not  perfect  (no  man  is  perfect ; 
God  meant  man  to  be  man  in  this  world ;  and  no  man  is  perfect  so 
long  as  there  is  anything  to  be  added  in  his  development) ;  yet,  so  for 
as  the  law  is  concerned,  it  is  dead  to  those  who  live  by  love.  There  it 
is,  away  down  below,  to  catch  them  if  they  fall ;  but  if  they  keep  up 
where  they  are  it  will  not  touch  them. 

Birds  have  feet  to  walk  with  when  they  cannot  use  their  wings  ; 
but  a  bu-d  that  is  not  a  fool  will  never  use  its  feet  if  it  can  use  its 
wings.  And  the  soul  never  uses  its  feet,  as  it  were,  to  walk  with,  ao 
long  as  it  can  fly  and  abide  in  these  higher  realms. 

Thus,  the  Christian  experience  of  all  sects  and  denominations 
unitizes  itself.  The  Romanists  believe  that  in  their  church  there  are 
saints  who  live  in  this  higher  state.  Their  reasons  are  unsatisfactory ; 
the  peculiar  language  which  they  employ  is  exceptionable  ;  but  the  fact 
is  not  to  be  questioned.  The  Methodists  believe  that  there  are  many 
in  theu-  church  who  have  reached  the  state  of  sanctification.  The 
Congregational  church  at  Oberlin,  and  other  Congregational  churclies, 
have  in  them  men  who  think  that  they  have  come  to  the  tmsinning 
state,  where  they  are  not  under  the  condemnation  of  the  law.  The 
phenomenon  I  believe  in,  but  the  philosophy  by  which  they  explain 
it  I  do  not  believe  in.  Sometimes  it  is  true,  sometimes  it  is  partly  true, 
and  sometimes  it  is  not  true  at  all.  That  the  power  of  God  lifts  those 
souls  that  are  prepared  for  it  into  a  higher  realm  of  experience  which 
is  always  sweet,  serene,  and  beautiful,  always  victorious,  always  sing- 
ing and  making  others  sing,  always  tearless  and  joyful,  "  with  joy  un- 
speakable and  full  of  glory,"  as  our  text  has  it — that  I  do  believe.  I 
do  know  that  people  may  be  lifted  up  into  this  state. 

Now,  Christian  brethren ;  will  you  dwell  at  the  gate ;  or  will  you 
dwell  in  the  palace ;  or,  dwelling  in  the  palace,  will  you  sit  down  in 
the  kitchen,  or  go  up  into  the  banqueting  hall  ?  In  your  Christian 
life,  ai-e  you  in  the  stage  of  struggle  ?  Will  you  abide  there,  oi-  will 
you  make  haste  to  get  from  that  into  the  stage  of  victory,  where  love 
is  supreme"?  And  will  you  abide  there,  or  will  you  rise  still  fur- 
ther ?  When  one  has  come  to  that  middle  stage,  woe  to  him  if  he  stays 
there  I     So  easy  is  it  now  to  rise  ;  so  short  are  the  steps  j  so  Uttle  is  the 


PERFECT  PEACE.  399 

flight ;  so  near  Is  the  experience,  that  methinks  one  should  emerge  into 
it  at  once,  and  abide  there  forever. 

And  if  one  were  living  in  this  higher  state,  so  that  his  face  shone 
(for  it  would  shine.  You  cannot  have  anything  in  the  heart  and  keep 
it  from  the  face)  ;  if  one  carried  witliin  him,  perpetually,  those  sweet 
and  pure  and  noble  feelings  which  belong  to  this  higher  state,  so  that 
his  countenance  glowed  with  their  light,  his  very  appearance  would  be 
a  preaching  of  the  gospel  of  peace  to  men.  In  a  time  when  men  are 
swinging  fi'om  theii-  faith  and  confidence  I  despau-  of  books;  I  desj^air 
of  arguments.  I  despair  of  any  special  work  to  save  men  from  unbe- 
lief But  no  man  can  resist  the  argument  of  holiness  brought  in  a  per- 
sonified form  before  him,  in  its  gentleness,  in  its  sweetness,  in  its 
aspiration,  in  its  love,  in  all  its  blossoms  and  fruits  of  peace  and  joy. 
Let  men  see  that,  and  they  do  not  want  to  disbelieve.  All  their  hearts 
are  set  a-yearning.  No  real  conception  of  Christ  is  reproduced  before 
men,  that  they  do  not  long  to  have  the  same  thing  in  themselves. 
And  out  of  this  yearning  comes  aspiration  ;  and  out  of  aspiration  comes 
intuition  ;  and  out  of  intuition  comes  realization  ;  and  out  of  realization 
come  conversion  and  sanctifi cation.  So  that  no  man  preaches  so  much 
and  so  eifectually  as  the  man  that  does  not  speak  a  word,  but  whose 
whole  life  is  one  revelation  of  higher  forms  of  Christian  development. 

Oh  mother !  because  you  are  in  the  household,  it  does  not  follow 
tliat  you  are  not  also  in  the  pulpit.  There  are  these  open  pulpits ; 
there  are  these  domestic  pulpits.  The  candle  that  is  lit  for  your  table 
in  the  cottage,  and  gives  its  light  there  first,  shines  out  of  the  window, 
also,  and  throws  its  rays  far  down  the  road,  and  the  weary  traveler 
sees  them,  and  plucks  up  courage,  and  says,  "There  is  succor  at  last!" 
and  follows  the  light,  and  finds  your  house,  and  is  rescued.  And  while 
you  are  giving  yourself  to  your  children  in  sweetness,  and  love,  and 
prayer  and  tinist,  a  light  shines  down  the  road,  to  those  that  have  lost 
their  way,  and  many  a  soul  may  be  brought,  by  your  example,  home 
to  Jesus. 

Do  not  be  discouraged  because  you  have  not  an  ampler  sphere  of 
testimony.  Live,  love,  trust,  and  wait,  and  ere  long  forever  and  for- 
ever triumph  and  rejoice  I 


iOO  PEBFECT  PEACE. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE   SERMOK 

TVe  rojoice  before  thee,  our  Father.  "We  take  hold  of  thee  by  faith.  "We  have 
learned  something  of  thy  nature.  Through  years  thou  hast  interpreted  thyself  to  our 
understanding,  through  our  aQcctions  and  through  our  lives.  Thou  art  past  finding  out, 
in  the  amijlitude  of  thy  being.  Yet  we  are  as  they  who  wander  in  the  summer,  and, 
though  tliey  cannot  compass  the  whole  summer,  bring,  in  their  hands,  from  every  field, 
something  which  is  the  symbol  of  all  that  they  have  left.  The  wondrous  glory  of  the 
heaven  and  of  the  earth  is  brought  to  them  by  the  simplest  things.  And  so,  though  we 
cannot  compass  thee,  nor  by  searching  find  thee  out  uuto  perfection,  yet  our  love  and 
patience  and  hope  all  bring  thee  near  to  us,  and  there  r'se  before  our  minds  the  ciT.eep- 
tions  of  thy  grandeur  in  wisdom,  in  purity,  in  gentleness,  in  love,  iu  long  fuffering 
kindness,  so  that  the  heavens  are  not  able  to  contain  thee.  Thou  dost  fill  immensity, 
and  our  spirits  sink  back,  and  wo  rest  ourselves.  As  the  dove  cannot  fly  through  all 
the  air,  but  only,  according  to  the  strength  of  its  wing,  through  a  little  portion  of  it, 
so  neither  are  we  strengthened  to  behold  thy  face  in  righteousness;  to  see  thee  as  thou 
art;  and  to  come  into  the  fulness  of  that  joy  which  bcdongs  to  thy  servants.  We  wait 
for  the  revelation.  We  wait  till  the  weakness  of  these  mortal  bodies  has  passed.  Wo 
wait  for  the  disclosure  of  these  spirits,  when  all  that  we  are  shall  rise  up  and  assert  itself, 
and  come  to  its  symmetry,  now  compressed,  and  hidden  and  distorted  by  these  bodies. 
We  yet  are  to  stand  forth  in  fuUi  ess,  in  power,  in  beauty  and  in  joy,  such  as  eye  hath 
not  seen,  and  such  as  it  hath  not  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.  And  we 
bless  thee  for  all  this  hope.  We  bless  thee  that  there  is  something  better  than  treasure, 
something  better  than  friendship,  something  better  than  even  character  in  this  mortal 
life.  When  thou  shalt  be  all  in  all;  when  we  shall  rise  into  glorious  identification  with 
thee;  when  we  shall  know  thee  as  we  are  known,  and  move  co-ordinate  with  thee,  how 
will  all  the  things  which  are  most  precious,  and  in  this  our  state  of  being  most  needful, 
seem  inferior  to  us  !  As  the  steps  by  which  one  rises  from  the  ground  to  the  Jiiglicr 
rooms,  as  soon  as  they  are  trod  on  are  left  behind,  so  thou  dost  teach  us  that  the  things 
most  simple  and  the  most  needful — the  moralities  of  life,  and  the  virtues  of  life — are  but 
so  many  steps  by  which  we  shall  go  higher,  to  that  more  blessed  and  all-comprehending 
experience  which  the  soul  may  ha\e  in  its  perfect  rest  with  Jesus  Christ. 

Lord  Jesus,  is  not  thy  pavilion  open?  and  can  it  ever  be  crowded?  Can  any  more 
come  than  tbou  canst  entertain  ?  Is  there  any  soul  that  may  not  know  its  perfect  rest 
in  Christ?  If  all  the  world,  if  every  one  of  its  living  creatures,  should  come  to  thee, 
wouldst  thou  be  surprised  out  of  thy  generosity?  Is  it  not  in  thine  heart  to  give,  and 
to  give  abundantly  ?  And  were  there  millions  more,  would  it  not  bo  to  swell  thy  joy  ? 
O  thou  Redeemer!  is  not  thy  redemption  enough  for  all  mankind,  and  for  all  the 
circumstances  and  conditions  in  which  they  are  placed  ?  Canst  thou  not  redeem  1 
Canst  thou  not  set  thy  people  free  from  sin,  even  in  this  life?  Canst  thou  not  bear 
them  up  in  thy  hands  so  that  they  shall  not  dash  their  foot  against  a  stone  1 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  there  maybe  more  earnest  desires  among  us,  to 
enter  into  that  hidden  life,  that  more  blessed  and  higher  consummation  of  Ctiristian 
experience.  Oh  !  let  us  not  be  forever  on  the  storm-washed  shore.  Let  us  not  be  for- 
ever swept  and  rocked  by  the  winds.  May  we  at  last  find  that  land  where  are  no  storms; 
where  is  settled  peace;  from  which  we  behold  the  battlemeut  afar  off,  where  are  wa'ted 
snatches  of  that  blessed  song  which  we,  too,  ere  long,  shall  sing.  And  wo  pray  that  we 
may  gird  up  our  loins,  make  a  new  crown  of  faith,  and  again  press  upward  and  forward, 
undiscouraged,  undismayed,  not  daunted  by  suffering,  nor  by  sorrow,  nor  by  any  evil 
that  shall  come  upon  us.  HoLling  all  our  life  subject  to  thy  will,  may  we  take  or  part 
with  whatever  is  best.  May  we  bear  burdens,  or  find  them  rolling  off,  as  pleases  thee; 
so  that  in  all  things  our  will  and  thine  shall  be  one  and  inseparable. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  to  all  those  who  are  beginning  a, Christian  life,  so  far  the  sight 
and  light  of  that  higher  and  blessed  state,  that  they  may  press  on  with  vigor,  with  faith, 
and  with  assured  hope.  We  pray  that  many  more  may  bo  drawn  into  the  blessedness  of 
Christian  experience.    Why  should  they  die  as  the  beasts  die  ?    Why  should  they  seek, 


PERFECT  PEACE.  401 

groveling,  the  things  that  perish  in  the  using  ?  Why  should  they  he  separated  from  all 
that  is  pure  and  noble  and  divine  iu  life?  Why  should  the  hope  of  salvation  through 
Jesus  Christ  shino  upon  us,  and  not  shine  upon  all? 

O  Lord  !  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  move  upon  the  consciences  of  men. 
Quicken  their  dormant  feeling.  Bring  to  a  resolution  and  to  a  purpose  all  wavering  and 
scattering  thought.  And  we  pray  that  there  may  bo  many  who  shall  inquire  wliat  they 
shall  do  to  he  saved.  May  their  voices  be  heard  telling  what  the  Lord  hath  done  for 
them.  May  souls  be  renewed,  sins  be  forgiven,  life  be  recreated  in  faith,  and  thy  name 
be  glorified  in  the  life  and  example  of  multitudes  whom  thou  hast  rescued  from  the  cap- 
tivity of  sin  and  Satan. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  teach  thy  people  to  be  like  thee.  May  every  one 
of  them  have  some  word  of  testimony.  May  every  one  of  them  have  something  to  say 
of  what  the  Lord  hath  done  for  him.  May  every  one  be  a  preacher  of  righteousness  in 
the  household,  or  wherever  he  is.  May  there  be  the  influence  of  Jesus  Christ  exhaling 
from  every  one. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  not  only  bless  our  Church,  and  our  dear  brethren,  and 
the  families  clustered  around  about,  but  remember  all  sister  Churches  of  every  name. 
And  grant  that  all  this  great  band  of  Churches  may  live  together  not  only  in  peace,  not 
harming  each  other,  but  in  cordiality,  in  confidence  and  cooperative  zeal  and  labor,  stu- 
dying to  bear  each  other's  burdens,  in  honor  preferring  one  another,  and  laying  aside 
pride  and  envy,  and  all  those  hateful  works  of  Satan.  And  grant  that  at  last  thy  gar- 
ment may  be  without  a  seam,  undivided.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  bless- 
ing to  rest  upon  all  the  labors  of  thy  servants  for  the  great  community  in  which  we 
dwell. 

Remember,  we  beseech  of  thee,  all  the  States  in  this  Union,  the  United  States  Gov- 
ernment, the  President  of  these  United  States,  and  all  that  are  in  authority  with  him. 
Grant  that  thy  Spirit  may  rest  largely  upon  them,  and  that  they  may  walk  in  the  way 
of  wisdom.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  purify  our  magistracy  and  our  judges.  May  all 
this  land  see  justice  becoming  truer,  purer,  nobler  and  more  authoritative  among  men. 

May  intelligence  spread.  May  schools  and  colleges  and  seminaries  of  learning  be 
multiplied  and  blessed,  and  this  whole  land  throw  oif  its  darkness,  and  superstition,  and 
base  bad  passions,  and  rude  injustices. 

And  grant  that  the  Spirit  of  Christ  may  pervade  the  whole  nation,  and  that  all  the 
world  at  last  may  see  thy  coming,  and  behold  the  truth  of  thy  Gospel,  and  feel  the  force 
of  thy  salvation. 

And  to  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  shall  be  praises,  evermore.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOK 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  spoken.  Grant  that 
there  may  be  more  and  more  of  us  desirous  of  rising  above  the  besetments  of  this  mortal 
life;  above  our  entanglements  with  the  world,  with  the  flesh,  with  appetite  and  with 
passion;  above  our  relations  one  with  another,  and  with  the  conduct  of  afi'airs.  Give 
ns,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  power  of  faith  by  which  we  may  come  into  the  hour  of  vic- 
tory, when  Christ  shall  be  all  in  all  to  us  — mightier  in  us  than  interest,  or  than  our 
reputation;  dearer  to  us  than  ourselves;  and  more  lovely  than  those  most  loved. 

So  may  we  live  in  this  routine  of  life  by  Christ's  aid.  And  out  of  that.  Lord  Jesus, 
open  thine  inner  chamber,  that  we  may  go  in  unto  thee.  And  where  there  are  no  words; 
where  only  calm  ecstaey  dwells;  where  is  peace  profound,  without  wave — unending 
peace,  and  joy  which  passes  all  understanding— there  may  we  abide.  And  so  in  life, 
rising  to  these  glories,  may  ve  pass  from  glory  to  glory,  until  we  stand  in  Zion  and 
before  God. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


XXV. 

Preparation  for  Death. 


INVOCATION. 

Almighty  God,  thou  hast  formed  us.  Thou  hast  reared  us  through  life 
to  this  day.  Thou  hast  girded  us  round  about  by  thy  laws,  and  by  all  thy 
providence  led  and  blessed  us.  Vouchsafe  still  to  us  thy  care  and  love.  And 
this  morning  breathe  thy  benediction,  that  we,  as  sons  going  home  to  our 
Father,  may  rejoice  with  liberty  and  sweet  delight  of  love.  And  bring  us 
into  that  mind  of  reconciliation,  of  love  and  of  faith,  out  of  which  all  truth 
shall  seem  clear  And  help  us  in  the  sjjirit  of  faith  this  day  to  draw  near 
to  thee  with  prayer,  that  we  may  commune  with  thee  with  praise,  that  our 
gladness  may  have  voice.  Grant  that  we  may  commune  one  with  another ; 
that  we  may  learn  from  thy  word  our  duty ;  that  the  influences  of  devotion 
and  inspiration  may  be  made  by  thy  Holy  Spirit  this  day  efficacious.  And 
be  with  us  in  our  hours  of  retirement,  and  in  our  social  joy.  At  home  and 
everywhere  may  the  Sj^irit  of  our  God  redeem  us  from  sin,  and  deliver  us 
from  evil.     Which  we  ask  for  thine  own  name's  sake.     Amen. 


'w 


PREPAEATIOI  POR  DEATH. 


"  Take  ye  heed,  watch  and  pray ;  for  ye  know  not  when  the  time  is." — Makk  XIII.    33, 

<»» 

If  any  man  has  ever  taken  a  leaf-bnd  into  his  hancl,  and  examined 
it,  he  has  found  that  while  it  seemed  like  a  unit — a  simple  thing  in  it- 
self— it  contained  within  the  first  leaf  another  one ;  and  that  within  the 
second  there  was  a  thii'd,  and  on  so  all  the  way  through,  a  whole  sum- 
mer's growth  being  compressed  into  a  form  scarcely  bigger  than  the  ' 
head  of  a  pin. 

So  it  is,  as  Lord  Bacon  says,  with  prophecy,  which  has  a  kind  of 
"springing  and  germinant  accomplishment."  For,  while  the  words  of 
our  Master  often  seem  to  have  reference  to  a  near  and  present  thing, 
they  are  also  made,  otherwhere,  and  in  the  same  discourse,  to  apply  to  a 
more  remote  one,  and  to  one  still  more  remote.  You  shall  find,  in  one 
prophecy,  wrapped  up,  like  so  many  leaves  in  one  bud,  declarations 
which  respect  the  death  of  the  individual,  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem, 
and  the  final  day  of  judgment — the  great  settling-day  of  this  moral  ex- 
periment of  the  universe.  And  all  of  them  lie  in  a  line.  Being  of  one 
analogy,  having  moral  similarities,  they  are  gi'ouped  together.  And  the 
same  prophecy  means  the  first,  the  second,  and  the  third. 

So  it  is  with  the  passage  from  which  I  have  made  this  selection  to- 
day. While  the  context  shows — as  especially  do  the  parallel  passages 
in  other  gospels — that  the  Saviour  was  speaking  of  the  near  approach  of 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  almost  without  any 
possibility  of  discriminating  the  points,  he  shades  olF,  in  his  teaching,  to 
the  gi-eat  and  final  judgment.  And  yet  he  applies  both  of  these  things 
to  the  individual  fear  and  the  individual  Bdelity,  and  makes  it  an  argu- 
ment for  every  man  to  prepare  for  death. 

In  Matthew,  particularly,  there  is  a  gi'oup  of  pictures  parabolic.  I 
read  some  of  them  to  you  as  part  of  the  opening  service. 

The  first  is  the  picture  of  a  man  who  had  possession  in  his  house, 
and  who,  if  he  had  known  at  what  hom*  the  thief  would  come,  would 

Sun-day  Morning,  Fob.  27,  1870.  Lesson:  Matt.  XXIV.  42—51;  XXV.  1—13,  Uvinva 
(Plymouth  Collection) :  Kos.  162,  142,  346. 


404  PREPAMATION  FOR  DEATH. 

have  Tvatched.  Human  life,  all  that  is  valuable  to  a  man,  all  thnt  it  is 
worth  liis  while  to  save,  is  like  a  house,  with  its  precious  commodities 
and  treasures  in  it ;  and  Death  is  like  a  thief ;  and  the  householder,  if 
he  is  wise,  and  has  any  hint  that  a  thief  is  coming  on  a  given  night, 
wUl  watch,  and  be  ready  for  him  ;  so  men  should  watch  against  that 
thief  Death.  But  the  householder  did  not  know  that  the  thief  was 
coming,  and  so  the  thief  stole  on,  and  peei'ed  into  the  window,  and  lis- 
tened, and  raised  the  sash  gently,  and  thrust  himself  in,  and  went  to 
the  ascertained  place  where  the  treasure  was  hidden,  and  took  it,  and 
disappeared ;  and  then  it  was  too  late  for  the  householder  to  watch. 
His  treasure  was  gone.  And  so,  by  implication,  the  Saviour  says  to 
every  one  of  us,  "  Prepare  for  Death  before  he  comes  ;  for  it  will  be  too 
late  to  prepare  when  he  has  come." 

Or,  to  take  another  figure,  the  master  goes  to  a  far  country  on  a 
journey  of  pleasure  or  of  business,  and  leaves  his  house  and  goods  in 
the  hands  of  his  servants,  and  charges  them  to  take  care.  And,  as  is 
sometimes  the  case,  as  soon  as  the  master's  eye  is  off  from  them,  the 
servants,  unfaithful  to  their  trust,  and  determined  to  have  a  good  time, 
now  that  the  master  is  gone,  conspire  together,  saying,  "  Nobody  will 
know  what  we  do ;  nobody  will  hold  us  to  accountability."  And,  not 
dreaming  that  he  is  coming  back  so  soon,  thinking  that  his  absence 
will  be  prolonged  for  days  and  days  yet,  by  his  business,  they  go  on  in 
then-  hilarity ;  and  they  are  in  a  drunken  debauch,  and  are  quarreling, 
those  that  are  stronger  beating  those  that  are  weaker.  And  at  that 
very  moment  in  comes  the  lord,  unexpectedly,  and  catches  them  in  that 
gross  abuse  of  his  trust,  in  that  outrageous  infidelity  to  their  duty.  It 
is  too  late,  then,  for  them  to  watch,  and  make  ready  for  his  return. 
There  is  no  excuse  for  then-  conduct ;  so  they  are  bundled  out,  all  of 
them.  Not  one  remains.  And  our  Saviour  says,  "Watch.  Your  Mas- 
ter is  absent.  He  is  coming.  If  you  are  all  of  you  wild  with  dissipated 
pleasure,  abusing  reason,  abusing  conscience,  abusing  life  itself,  he  will 
come  for  you  at  an  hour  that  you  think  not  of.  Be  sober  ;  be  vigilant; 
be  ready.  Let  him  come  when  he  pleases,  by  day  or  by  night ;  and 
whenever  he  comes,  let  him  find  the  household  of  your  heart  ready  for 
him." 

Then  there  is  the  third  picture.  It  is  of  the  marriage  feast,  or,  ra- 
ther, festival — for,  among  the  Jews,  weddings  occupied  two  or  three 
days  and  nights,  and  sometimes  fourteen  days  and  nights,  of  rejoicing. 
It  was  the  custom  of  the  bridegroom,  taking  some  of  his  companions, 
to  go  to  the  house  of  the  father  of  the  bride ;  and,  so  soon  as  the  proces- 
sion set  out  from  his  father's  house,  or  from  his  house,  many  of  his 
companions  were  prepared  to  go  out  into  the  street  and  join  the  pro- 
cession, sometimes  thi'owing  flowers,  and  always  caiTying  torches.  And 


PBEPARATION  FOR  DEATH.  405 

when  Ihcy  had  come  to  the  house  of  festivity,  and  gone  in,  the  door 
was  closed,  and  they  spent  their  hours  in  social  enjoyment. 

Our  Master  says  of  the  ten  virgins  who  were  thus  waiting  to  join  the 
bridal  procession,  that  five  of  them  were  i-cady,  and  five  of  them  were 
not  ready.  So,  when  the  procession  hove  in  sight,  and  the  cry  came 
down  the  street,  "Behold!  the  bridegroom  cometh!"  and  they  rose  to 
go  out  to  meet  him,  half  had  no  oil  with  which  to  light  their  torches. 
And  they  begged  the  others  to  lend  them  of  their  oil.  And  the  others 
said,  "Prepare  your  own  torches;  we  have  only  enough  oil  for  our- 
selves." And  they  went  out  to  get  some  oil,  and  while  they  were  gone 
the  procession  went  on,  and  entered  the  house,  and  the  door  was  closed. 
And  when  they  came,  afterwaids,  and  knocked,  they  were  rejected.  It 
was  too  late. 

All  these  pictures  bear  on  this  one  point — timely  preparation  to 
meet  God  in  the  other  life.  All  of  them  have  one  drift,  one  mean- 
ing ;  and  that  is,  that  men  should  make  their  whole  life  a  sober,  watch- 
ful preparation  for  the  hour  of  death,  and  the  consequences  of  it ;  and 
that  it  is  disastrous,  that  it  is  a  piece  of  temerity  and  of  wickedness,  for 
any  man  to  defer  preparing  for  death  until  death  comes. 

It  is  this  subject  that  I  am  going  to  talk  to  you  about  this  morn- 
ing— leaving  your  preparation  for  the  other  life  until  death  di-aws  near 
to  you. 

Men  do  not  love  to  think  of  Death,  because  they  are  not  on  good 
terms  with  him.  They  resort  to  forgetfulness.  They  occupy  them- 
seh'es,  often,  intensely.  They  rush  into  pleasures.  They  count  him  to 
be  no  kind  companion,  and  no  pleasant  friend,  that  will  insist  upon  i-e- 
minding  them  of  dying  and  death.  It  is  a  gloomy  thing.  All  the 
offices  of  death  are  gloomy  ;  and  they  are  made  more  so  by  the  heathen 
practices  of  Christian  communities. 

Now,  death  is  not  in  itself  anything  terrible,  as  a  mere  physical 
event.  Most  persons  die  with  as  little  pain  as  a  child  goes  to  sleep  ; 
and  all  the  suffering  which  precedes  death  is  so  little  in  the  majority 
of  instances  that  if  it  were  all  summed  up  and  put  upon  a  man  who  is 
alive  and  well,  he  would  be  ashamed  to  shed  a  tear,  or  to  shrink  from 
the  bearing  of  it.  Death  in  and  of  itself  is  merciful.  It  was  not  meant 
that  men  should  be  crowded  out  of  life  as  through  a  door.  When  men 
are  prepared  to  die,  nature  is  as  gi-acious  to  them  in  dying,  as  to  an 
apple,  when  it  is  ripe  and  ready  to  fall  from  the  bow.  The  stem  itself 
prepares,  as  a  part  of  its  ripeness,  to  let  go ;  so  that  when  the  least 
breath  of  wind,  after  the  moistening  by  the  dew  in  the  night,  shakes 
the  apple,  it  falls  easily  to  the  ground. 

We  do  not  cling  to  the  bough  of  life  veiy  tenaciously.  "We  do  not 
need  to  be  torn  from  it  by  rude  handling.     Dying  is  not  a  thing  spe- 


406  PREP  ABA  TION  FOR  DEA  TU. 

cially  to  be  dreaded.  No  man  ever  has  the  toothache  in  good  earnest, 
no  man  ever  has  the  rheumatism  or  nem-algia,  that  he  does  not  suffer 
every  hour  more  pain  than  dying  inflicts  upon  men  ordinarily.  There 
ai'e  exceptional  cases,  but  this  is  the  general  rule.  Death  is-  a  thing, 
therefore,  not  to  be  dreaded  as  a  physical  experience. 

In  regard  to  death  as  the  interruption  of  our  plans  and  affections,  it 
is  a  thing,  certainly,  more  painful,  and  to  be  apprehended  with  less 
composm-e ;  because  death  does  overhang  men  in  the  midst  of  their 
love,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  schemes ;  and  they  have  seen  among 
their  neighbors  what  disasters  have  followed  it.  One  prophesies,  and 
asks,  "What  will  become  of  my  childi-en?  What  will  become  of  my 
estate  ?  What  will  become  of  these  mighty  interests  which  have  de- 
volved upon  me,  and  which  my  hands  have  controlled  and  guided  ?" 
So  that  there  is  a  reason  more  worthy  than  the  fear  of  pain,  why  men 
do  not  like  to  think  of  death. 

And  yet,  even  this,  philosophy,  without  any  consideration  of  re- 
ligion, might  very  much  ameliorate.  For,  since  the  world  began,  has 
it  ever  been  found  that  a  man  died  whose  place  could  not  be  supplied  ? 
Has  the  world  mourned  because  a  family  mourned  ?  Have  childi-en 
that  have  lost  the  guiding  parent  not  been  able  to  find  then-  way  into 
life,  and  through  life  ?  Nature  is  made  so  large  and  so  bountiful,  and 
the  economy  of  God's  providence  is  such,  that,  after  all,  those  who 
think  that  they  are  so  important  to  their  estate,  to  their  business,  to 
then-  families,  over-estimate.  To  be  sure,  if  they  should  die,  the  house- 
hold would  not  be  carried  on  as  they  are  carrying  it  on ;  but  it  would 
not  be  destroyed.  A  man  says,  "Oh!  let  me  compass  sea  and  land, 
and  bring  home  what  my  golden  net  would  fixin  enclose ;  let  me  live 
till  I  can  make  my  childi-en  as  princes,  warding  off  all  care  from  them, 
and  supplying  them  with  the  means  of  all  culture  and  pleasure ;  let  me 
live  till  things  are  consolidated,  and  then  I  can  leave  my  household 
without  anxiety  for  their  welfare."  But  the  Lord  strikes  down  this 
man,  and  he  dies  in  the  midst  of  his  plans,  and  unfaithful  agents  scat- 
ter, taking  what  they  can  lay  their  hands  on,  and  executors  take  the 
rest,  and  his  childi-en  are  left,  just  as  he  was,  to  themselves,  and  to  the 
IMOvidence  of  God.  And  they  grow  up  energetic,  industrious,  careful 
and  frugal,  as  they  would  not  have  done  if  they  had  been  left  to  be 
pampered  and  slain  by  the  dissolving  power  of  an  overplus  of  riches. 

Besides,  we  are  not  as  necessary  as  we  think.  The  sun  will  come 
up  to-morrow  if  you  do  die.  The  stars  will  shine  if  you  are  not  here 
to  see  them.  Summer  will  come  if  your  plough  lies  still.  The  world  is 
not  made  to  turn  on  you  as  a  pivot.  You  occupy  a  very  small  place. 
Your  little  will,  and  your  little  purposes,  scarcely  crease  the  gi-eat  orb 
of  affau-s.     And  no  man  is  so  necessary  that  of  the  stones  God  cannot 


PBEPARA  TION  FOR  DBA  TK  407 

raise  up  one  to  take  his  place.     The  work  that  you  have  in  undivided 
hands,  God  scatters  and  divides  up  among  a  hundred. 

So  men  over-estimate  their  importance,  and  thhik  that  death  is  a 
terrible  thing  because  they  are  conceited  in  regard  to  their  relations 
here  in  this  world. 

But  the  true  significance  of  death  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  brings  men 
into  final  moral  relations  with  God ;  that  it  brings  moral  character  and 
conduct  to  a  final  test ;  that  it  brings  men  into  judgment  for  all  the 
deeds  done  in  the  body — for  every  word  ;  for  every  thought ;  for  every 
habit ;  for  eveiy  element  of  character.  At  death  men  enter  into  the 
presence  of  God.  There  is  a  settling  of  then-  estate  ;  and  their  estate 
follows  their  nature  and  character.  They  that  have  done  good  rise  to 
honor  and  glory  and  immortality;  and  those  that  have  done  evil 
sink  to  shame  and  woe.  That  is  a  reason  why  men  dread  death  ; 
and  it  is  a  good  reason  for  dreading  it.  But  it  is  not  a  good  reason  for 
not  thinking  about  it.  It  is  not  only  a  good  reason  why  men  should 
not  love  to  cherish  in  their  bosom  the  thought  of  death,  which  is  so 
full  of  fear,  but  it  is  a  good  reason  why  they  should  take  away  fear 
from  the  thought  of  death.  For,  death  may  come  to  us  either  dark, 
revengeful,  prophesying  mischief,  or  it  may  come  as  the  coming  of  the 
Son  of  Man,  full  of  hope  and  promise  and  cheer. 

Every  consideration  should  induce  men  to  give  this  point  of  their 
being  the  most  profound  thought ;  but  it  has,  in  fact,  the  least  of  our 
thought.  Men  do  not  willingly  entertain  thoughts  of  it,  because  it  is 
painful,  and  they  are  not  prepared  to  let  that  pain  work  in  them  a  salu- 
tary result. 

Now  let  us  consider,  as  calm  and  prudent  men,  the  full  effect  and 
the  true  character  of  deferring  the  preparation  for  death  until  the  dying 
hour. 

1.  To  thus  defer  this  preparation  is  to  deprive  life  itself  of  one  of 
its  chief  steadying  elements.  There  is  nothing  that  we  need  more 
than  ballasting.  There  is  nothing  that  we  need  more  than  some  form 
of  earnestness  which  shall  give  cohesion  and  depth  and  power  to  the 
whole  course  of  our  lives.  We  tend  to  run  after  follies.  We  tend  to 
be  diverted  from  the  highest  good.  We  are  tempted  and  dazzled  by 
fripperies.  And  death  is  a  solemn  undertone  which  never  dies  out  of 
the  air. 

They  who  live  near  the  shore  of  the  sea  know  that  even  in  a  calm 
the  sui-ge  moans  upon  the  beach.  No  wind  comes,  that  the  plash  does 
not  grow  louder.  And  storms  thunder  on  the  shore.  And  those  who 
live  near  the  sea  learn  to  miss,  if  they  go  away  from  it,  the  solemn 
undertone  of  the  gi*eat  singing,  sighing  ocean. 

So  death,  to  the  contemplative  mind,  is,  as  it  were,  the  great  other 


408  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH. 

world  beating  on  this.  And  the  thought  of  it  keeps  in  one's  soul  a 
sense  of  one's  life — of  its  greatness,  its  reality,  the  consequences  of  it; 
and  so  it  steadies  men,  and  keeps  them  to  their  work,  to  theu-  thought, 
to  their  conscience,  and  to  their  reason. 

A  wise  foresight  of  death  changes  the  emphasis  of  experience  in 
this  life.  He  who  forethinks  and  prepares,  will  find  that  he  has  made 
wise  provision  not  simply  against  the  contingency  of  the  future,  but 
for  the  exigencies  of  the  present.  For  the  preparations  for  death,  of 
which  I  shall  speak  more  by  and  by,  will  relieve  us  from  the  thi-eat  of 
ten  thousand  cares  and  ills,  and  ten  thousand  dissipations.  Just  so 
soon  as  a  man  measures  his  history,  or  his  experience,  by  infinite  meas- 
ures, how  he  puts  to  shame  the  common  rules  of  society  ! 

There  is  one  solitary  little  proverb  that  gets  a  living  among  men, 
which  is  very  good.  When  one  frets  over  a  small  thing  men  are  ac- 
customed to  say,  "  Well,  it  will  be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence  !" 
That  is  a  sort  of  blind  or  homely  way  of  coming  at  this  same  thing. 

If  men  were  accustomed  to  measure  things  by  their  value  to  them 
in  their  whole  scope  of  being — and  that  it  is  to  think  of  death  in  these 
■^ays — a  thousand  things  which  torment  them  would  be  found  to  be 
mere  midges.  Men  think  that  they  are  stung  to  death  when  mosquitoes 
sting  them,  in  moral  things.  Men  vex  and  harrass  and  annoy  them- 
selves by  mere  dust.  The  vast  things — those  things  that  involve  in 
them  everlasting  consequences — they  do  not  feel.  The  emphasis  is 
wrong.  Men  acuminate  the  things  which  are  small  and  inconsequen- 
tial ;  and  they  leave  blunted  and  undiscovered  things  which  are  vast 
and  terrible  in  their  outworkings.  So  that  if  a  man  be  living  with  a 
wise  forethought  of  life,  and  the  termination  of  life,  he  will  not  be  so 
apt  to  be  inflamed  by  ambition,  as  if  he  thought  this  life  was  every 
thing.  And  wealth  will  not  be  so  tempting  to  him.  It  will  not  be 
any  less  a  power :  it  will  be  more  a  power,  but  a  different  one,  working 
for  a  different  part  of  his  mind.  Pleasure  will  not  fly  away  because  a 
man  must  needs  die,  but  it  will  answer  a  different  end  to  one  who  feels 
that  he  will  ere  long  die.  He  who  feels  that  death  opens  the  gate  to 
another  and  higher  state  of  existence,  will  look  upon  all  parts  of  life, 
not  with  indifference,  but  with  a  diflerent  emphasis,  and  with  a  differ- 
ent meaning. 

A  wise  foresight  of  death  also  gives  unity,  consistence,  and  steady 
purpose  to  the  whole  of  our  life,  now  scattered  into  details,  or  gathered 
together  like  a  sand-heap  in  which  the  particles  are  in  juxtaposition,  but 
not  in  union.  He  who  thinks  from  day  to  day  that  death  is  but  a  hand- 
breadth  ;  that  death  comes  to  terminate  this  life,  and  then  begins  the 
other,  the  eternal,  and  the  real  life,  cannot  but  find,  not  only  that  it  will 


PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH.  409 

minister  to  -wisclom  and  pniclcnce,  but  that  it  will  soften  many  hard 
places,  and  relieve  many  sharp  snfferings. 

If  one  thinks  ^^  isely  of  death,  not  only  will  it  not  be  a  fear  and  a 
terror,  bnt  it  will  be  a  guardian  angel.  There  is  no  thought  sweeter  to 
those  that  believe  in  Christ,  than  the  thought  that  lie  will  bring  them 
from  the  dead,  even  as  He  was  raised  from  the  dead.  There  is  no 
thought  in  which,  with  more  joy,  men  bathe  their  fevered  brow,  than 
the  thought,  "  Ere  long  I  shall  die ;  I  shall  go  forth  from  this  struggle 
— from  this  strife  of  tongues  ;  from  this  bitterness ;  from  this  injustice  ; 
from  this  partial  life  ;  from  this  unmanliness.  It  will  be  but  a  little 
while  before  I  shall  go  forth  and  be  at  rest." 

2.  Living  without  conscious  preparation  for  death  is  a  risk  which 
neither  prudence  nor  self-respect  should  allow.  Judging  by  any  way 
that  men  treat  themselves,  it  is  not  prudent  to  put  to  peril  and  risk  all 
the  tremendous  issues  of  dying.  No  man  would  put  his  affections  to 
such  a  risk.  No  man  does.  A  man  guards  himself  with  a  wise  prov- 
idence of  the  future.  No  man  puts  his  affections  as  they  are  involved 
in  the  f  unily  to  such  peril.  He  is  perpetually  forethinking  ;  Avorking 
to  provide  against  evils  ;  making  preparation  to-day  and  this  year  for  to- 
morrow and  next  year.  And  it  is  wise — so  wise  that  it  ought  to  apply 
to  the  whole  of  our  existence,  as  well  as  to  a  part.  No  man  should  allow 
his  interest,  his  ambition,  his  property,  to  go  without  wise  foresight 
and  preparation.  And  no  man,  certainly,  should  treat  that  which  is 
mispeakably  more  precious — his  own  immortality — without  any  consid- 
eration of  the  future.  He  that  will  not  suffer  his  house  to  go  uninsur- 
ed— should  he  suffer  his  Father's  house  in  heaven  to  be  in  peril  to  him? 
He  that  would  not  suffer  his  taste,  or  his  commonest  affections,  to  go 
without  being  clothed  and  guarded  with  foresight  and  caution  and 
fidelity — should  he  permit  his  whole  nature  to  be  launched  upon  the 
future  without  a  thought  or  a  preparation  ?  Is  that  wise  ?  Is  it  pru- 
dent? 

Still  more,  there  is  a  principle  of  self-respect  involved  in  this  matter. 
The  more  worthy  one  thinks  himself  to  be,  the  less  can  he  afford  to 
leave  death  to  hazards.  If  it  be  that  death  divides  ;  if  one  living  right 
goes  into  joy  and  glory,  and  one  living  wrong  goes  into  shame  and 
punishment;  if  death  is  the  point  of  division  between  a  man's  nobler 
life  and  his  disgraceful  life,  no  man  that  has  self-resj^ect  can  afford  to 
leave  the  chances  of  his  future  being  to  the  hour  of  death.  You  cannot 
afford  to  throw  yourself  away  ;  and  the  more  you  are  natuially  proud 
and  self-respecting,  the  more  profound  is  your  moral  consciousness 
worthy  of  your  being,  the  less  can  you  afford  to  put  it  in  peril  on  the 
threshold  of  the  other  world.  No  man  so  much  as  he  who  thinks  high- 
ly of  himself,  of  hisjpower,  of  his  capacity,  of  his  recipiency,  can  af- 


410  PBEPARA  TION  FOR  DBA  TE. 

ford  to  leave  anything  to  chance  in  respect  to  that  great,  that  rich,  that 
infinite,  that  eternal  world.  No  man  can  afford  to  go  into  the  future 
life  an  enemy  of  God.  No  man  who  believes  in  himself  here,  can  af- 
ford to  be  bankrupt  there.  No  man  can  afford  to  be  a  beggar,  no  man 
can  afford  to  be  a  vagabond,  forever.  No  man  can  afford  to  be  a  cul- 
prit in  the  world  to  come.  And  no  man  has  any  right  to  leave  his 
condition  there  to  chance. 

3.  There  is  a  view  which  will  have  weight  with  men  who  are  just, 
and  who  are  honestly  seeking  to  guide  themselves  by  principles  of 
honor.  It  is  the  ignoring,  the  dishonoring  of  God's  love,  his  will  and 
his  commands,  all  one's  life,  and  then,  at  death,  for  fear,  or  for  the  sake 
of  interest,  rushing  into  a  settlement.  It  is  better  to  enter  "  so  as  by 
fire"  than  to  perish  ;  but  where  one  has  his  life  and  his  reason  before 
him,  it  is  a  shame  for  him  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  "  so  as  by 
fire" — to  escape,  as  it  were,  into  the  salvation  of  Jesus  Christ. 

We  have  no  doubt  as  to  this  matter  of  honor  between  man  and 
man.  If  you  were  at  odds  with  a  neighbor,  and  you  were  prosperous, 
and  he  was  pi-osperous,  and  disaster  overcame  you,  you  would  be 
ashamed,  in  the  hour  of  your  disaster  and  your  weakness,  to  go  to  that 
neighbor  and  make  up  with  him,  because  a  great  ti'ouble  had  come  up- 
on you.  You  would  be  ashamed  to  do  at  such  a  time  what  you  would 
not  do  in  your  prosperity  and  strength,  for  the  sake  of  the  benefit  you 
might  derive  from  it. 

Or,  put  it  in  another  form.  A  child  is  reprobate,  aiid  breaks  away 
from  home,  and  squanders  all  he  can  get,  and  becomes  a  wreck  and  a 
wretch,  and  apparently  is  to  be  disowned.  He  hears,  at  last,  after 
years  and  years  of  dissipation,  that  his  father  is  weakening  and  draw- 
ing near  to  death ;  and  he  scents  the  opportunity,  and  rushes  home, 
and  professes  repentance  and  reformation,  in  order  that  his  father  may 
reconstruct  his  will,  and  leave  him  a  part  of  his  estate.  What  would 
you  think  of  a  child  that  should  do  that  ?  What  would  you  think  of 
a  child  that  should  deliberately  calculate  upon  it,  and  say  in  himself, 
"  The  old  man  has  oftentimes,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  warned  me  against 
my  gambling  companions;  but  there  is  time  enough  yet.  He  is  rich, 
and  I  want  a  part  of  his  money,  and  I  know  his  heart,  and  I  mean  t& 
come  in  for  a  share  by-and-by.  I  am  going  to  have  my  pleasure ;  I 
am  going  to  eat,  drink  and  be  merry  ;  I  am  going  to  have  my  royal 
debauch  with  my  companions ;  and  when  I  see  that  the  old  man  is 
about  pegging  out  I  will  go  home  and  reform  ;  because  I  do  not  mean 
to  lose  that  property ;  I  am  going  to  enjoy  myself  as  I  please,  and 
have  that  too  ?"  What  would  you  think  of  a  child  that  should  say 
that,  and  then  keep  his  eye  on  his  father,  and  calculate  his  chances,  and 
run  scuttling  home  just  in  time  to  get  his  name  put  in  the  will  right, 


FREPARA  TIO^  FOR  DEA  TE.  411 

m  order  that  he  might  have  the  property  ?  What  name  is  there  in  any 
language  that  is  adequate  to  express  your  feelings  toward  such  baseness 
as  that  ?' 

And  yet,  are  there  not  in  my  liearing  men  that  are  living  precisely 
so  with  respect  to  their  Father  who  is  in  heaven?  Are  there  not  men 
here  who  are  saying  to  themselves,  "  I  am  going  to  have  the  way  of  my 
pride,  and  my  ambition,  and  my  lust ;  I  am  going  to  live  as  I  please ;  I 
am  going  to  seek  my  own  delights ;  bnt  I  cannot  go  out  of  life  as  I  am ; 
so  by-and-by  I  am  going  to  repent"?  Oh  !  you  mean  pensioner!  Oh! 
you  detestable  creature  !  Do  you  mean  to  suck  all  that  is  palatable  to 
you  out  of  God's  summer,  and  make  no  acknowledgment  to  him  for 
his  bounty  as  long  as  you  can  help  it?  Do  you  deliberately  calculate, 
"  I  will  serve  iniquity,  I  will  di&honor  love,  I  will  forswear  allegiance, 
I  will  use  myself  for  myself,  during  the  best  part  of  my  life — for  God 
is  good,  and  will  not  cut  me  down  ;  and  by-and-by  I  will,  when  I  have 
some  monition  of  approaching  death,  repent,  and  make  a  lucky  turn ; 
and  slip  into  the  kingdom.  I  will  have  all  the  good  of  this  world,  and 
all  the  good  of  the  other  world  too  !"  Is  that  your  calculation  ?  Did 
you  ever  think  whether  you  were  living  on  principles  of  honor  or  not  ? 
Are  you  not  living  on  principles  that  between  man  and  man  are  so  de- 
testable that  you  would  not  look  one  in  the  face  who  should  practice 
them  toward  his  fellows?  And  how  must  angels  look  upon  men  who 
do  not  hesitate  to  do  toward  God  that  which  they  would  be  ashamed 
to  do,  and  would  scorn  to  do,  toward  each  other?  And  yet,  there  is 
many  and  many  a  man  who  has  calculated  his  whole  life  on  that  chance. 

Young  man,  you  have  said,  "  For  one,  I  am  not  going  to  be  wor- 
ried and  fretted  by  this  thing  any  longer.  I  am  going  to  throw  it  be- 
hind my  back.  I  have  entered  upon  a  business  career;  and  I  am  going 
to  run  through  that  career.  Religion  would  check  me  in  my  course  ; 
it  would  stand  in  the  way  of  my  doing  what  I  mean  to  ;  and  I  will 
not  ti'ouble  myself  about  it  now.  But  by-and-by,  Avhen  I  have  accom- 
plished my  objects  in  life,  I  am  going  to  give  attention  to  preparation 
for  death."  There  is  your  horoscope.  There  are  the  principles  on 
which  you  are  living.  And  yet,  if  I  charge  you  with  total  depravity, 
how  your  brow  wrinkles  !  You  have  taken  the  noblest  and  best  of  all 
relations,  and  put  them  on  principles  so  odious  and  hateful  that  a  man 
cannot  be  tolerated  who  acts  upon  them  in  his  dealings  with  his  fellow 
men  ;  and  yet  you  expect  to  go  out  of  this  life  and  be  happy  in  the 
other  life  !     Be  your  own  judge  in  this  thing. 

4.  There  are  piiidential  considerations  of  a  very  solemn  nature 
which  one  should  employ.  Those  who  think  that  they  shall  prei)are 
for  death  iu  the  last  hour  of  life,  ought  to  consider  some  of  then-  chan- 
ces. 


412  PBEPABA  TION  FOR  BE  A  T3. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  more  than  one  half  that  die  in  this  world  die 
^^'ilhout  consciousness.  Not  alone  of  those  that  die  by  accident,  by 
sudden  stroke,  but  of  those  that  die  by  disease,  more  than  one  half  die 
under  a  cloud,  so  that  they  have  no  use  of  their  reason.  And  among 
these  are  many  who,  all  their  life-long,  said,  "  I  am  not  prepared  for 
death ;  I  know  that  very  well ;  but  I  hope  to  have  timely  notice,  and  I 
mean  to  prepare  before  I  die."  Hundreds,  thousands,  multitudes,  have 
reserved  to  the  last  hours  of  life  a  preparation  for  death  ;  and  when 
those  last  hours  came  reason  had  gone,  and  they  went  out  of  life  as 
men  asleep,  when  the  ship  sinks,  go  out  of  life,  di-owned  without  a 
cry. 

A  large  portion  of  the  residue  are  by  disease  so  far  disabled,  be- 
numbed, relaxed,  weakened,  that  it  is  quite  in  vain  to  attem2:>t  much 
instruction  with  them.  One  of  the  piteous  things  which  a  minister 
sees  who  is  called  to  exhort  the  dying,  is  the  calmness  which  they  ex- 
hibit. I  have  been  called  to  the  bedsides  of  men  whom  I  know  to  have 
been  dissipated,  and  in  no  ordinary  degree  wicked,  whose  reason,  though 
it  remained,  was,  as  it  were,  under  a  charm.  I  would  talk  with  them, 
and  they  would  admit  everything.  They  saw  everything.  They  felt 
nothing.  Sensibility  seemed  to  have  died  in  its  fountains,  and  they 
were  like  men  who  were  in  a  dream.  They  saw  the  future  ;  they  be- 
lieved in  the  future;  they  believed  in  God,  in  judgment,  and  in  jjun- 
ishment;  and  they  believed  that  they  themselves  were  drifting  right 
on  to  the  shore,  a  wreck  ;  and  yet,  it  affected  neither  fear,  nor  hope, 
nor  remorse.  There  was  a  perfect  insensibility  in  them.  And  so 
they  died.  And  of  those  that  die  with  their  reason,  of  those  that  die 
rational,  I  think  it  may  be  said  that  one  half  die  with  such  a  lowered 
tone  of  sensibility,  with  the  nervous  system  so  impaired,  that  they  are 
utterly  incapable  of  making  any  preparation  for  death.  At  the  very 
best  there  be  few  who  are  capable  of  it. 

And  of  the  residue,  how  few  are  there  who  in  that  hour  can,  with 
any  deliberation,  with  any  discrimination,  with  any  ready  command  of 
faith,  with  any  clear  apprehension  of  life,  throw  themselves  into  the 
arms  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  any  such  way  as  to  leave  a  reasonable 
and  well-grounded  hope  to  those  who  are  left  behind,  that  they  have 
made  a  good  exchange  of  worlds  ! 

To  be  sure,  there  are  some  chances — chances  enough  to  make  it 
wise  for  every  man  to  be  exhorted.  There  is  hope  even  in  the  eleventh 
hour.  There  is  hope  for  some.  And  yet  the  hope  is  so  slender  that  it 
seems  to  me  he  who  is  in  life  and  health  is  infatuated  who  reserves  his 
immortality  to  the  misei-able  chances  of  a  death-bed  repentance.  There 
is  no  standard  which  we  employ  in  respect  to  our  common  affairs,  there 
is  no  way  of  measuring  prudence  and  honor,  which  does  not  sit  in 


PREPARA  TION  FOR  DEA  TH.  413 

conclemiiatlon  upon  those  who  reserve  for  the  last  hour  all  thcu*  prepa- 
ratio)i  for  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Whichever  Avay  you  look  at  it,  and  the  more  you  look  at  it;  whether 
you  accept  the  importance,  the  worth,  of  a  man's  own  soul,  or  the 
claims  of  God,  his  lightful  commands  ;  Avhether  you  consider  the  effect 
of  a  timely  preparation  upon  this  life  or  on  the  issues  of  the  other ; 
whether  you  take  into  account  the  glory  of  the  hea\  enly  estate,  or  the 
misery  of  those  who  are  lost — whichever  way  you  look  at  it,  no  man 
can  justify  himself  m  the  court  eilher  of  his  conscience  or  his  reason, 
for  letting  alone  a  preparation  for  death  until  the  last  moment.  And 
yet,  that  is  just  what  every  man  is  doing  who,  though  he  is  living  from 
day  to  day  under  self-condemnation,  is  doing  nothing. 

This  subject  ouglit  to  come  very  near  to  the  )  oung,  because  it  will 
take  away  one  of  those  fears  and  one  of  those  distresses  which  are  so 
incident  to  the  young.  How  vividly  I  remember  my  boyhood.  Oh, 
that  old  church  bell !  What  woe  it  has  smitten  into  my  sensitive  soul ! 
Hearing  that  old  bell  toll  for  some  one's  death  was  enough  to  give  me 
horrors  for  the  day  and  for  the  week.  How  the  thought  of  the  other 
life,  and  of  my  want  of  preparation  for  it,  brooded  over  me  like  a  hide- 
ous dream  in  the  night !  And,  at  last,  when  I  found  who  lived  in  the 
other  life ;  when  I  found  that  it  was  my  Saviour  and  my  Friend ;  when 
I  found  that  he  had  taught  me  how  to  love  him,  and  that  in  his  arms 
was  salvation,  and  that  death  was  slain  and  destroyed,  and  that  I  was 
saved  in  him,  how  it  was  as  if  one,  being  in  a  far  frozen  zone,  had  gone 
to  the  temperate  zones,  or  the  tropics !  And  for  scores  of  years,  dying 
has  had  no  fear  for  me.  It  has  long  since  ceased  to  have  any  banners 
of  threat  and  warning  in  the  sky  for  me.  It  is  better  to  die  than  to 
live,  for  him  who  is  prepared  to  die.  If  I  wished  to  send  a  child  ot 
mine  into  the  w^orld  equipped  for  the  battle  of  life,  and  wished  him  the 
highest  joy  and  the  greatest  peace,  I  would  say  to  him,  Clear  the  ter- 
ror out  of  your  future.  See  that  you  have  a  right  to  die  with  a  crown 
on  your  head  as  a  son  of  God,  and  not  as  a  miscreant  and  a  culprit. 
Prepare  to  meet  thy  God  in  youth.  Trust  him.  Love  him.  It  Avill 
take  away  fear  from  all  your  life,  and  make  that  life  better  worth  hav- 
ing— more  cheerful,  more  joyfuh 

Do  not  think  that  in  order  to  prepare  now  for  death,  a  man  must 
sit,  as  it  were,  among  tombstones.  Do  not  think  that  I  call  you  to  a 
gloomy  life.  Do  not  think  that  I  call  you  to  meditation  on  funerals, 
and  coffins,  and  graves,  and  skulls,  and  cross-bones,  and  hideous  iiisig- 
nia  of  death.  Do  not  think  that  I  call  you  to  sadness  and  sepulchral 
ghastliness.  I  do. not  call  you  to  these  things.  I  do  not  seek  to  fill 
your  minds  with  terror;  but  to  present  death  to  you  in  such  a  light 
that  it  shall  have  no  terror  to  you.     Live  by  faith  of  God,  give  your 


414  PREP  ABA  TION  FOB  BE  A  TH. 

heart  to  Clirist,  take  him  to  be  your  personal  Saviour,  yield,  as  a  child, 
everything  to  him  as  a  Father,  and  you  will  have  no  occasion  to  fear 
death.  Death  has  no  terror ;  no  blackness ;  no  memorials  of  evil ;  no 
threat.  It  is  as  sweet  as  flowers  are.  It  is  as  blessed  as  bird-singing 
in  spring  is.  I  never  hear  of  the  death  of  any  one  who  is  ready  to  die, 
that  my  heart  does  not  sing  like  a  harp.  I  am  sorry  for  those  that  are 
left  behind,  but  not  for  those  that  have  gone  before. 

It  is  always  a  sad  day  in  autumn,  to  me,  when  I  see  the  change  that 
comes  over  nature.  Along  in  August,  the  birds  are  all  still,  and  you 
would  think  that  there  were  not  any  left ;  but  if  you  go  out  into  the 
fields  you  find  them  feeding  in  the  trees,  and  hedges,  and  everywhere. 
By-and-by  September  comes,  and  they  begin  to  gather  together  in 
groups ;  and  anybody  that  knows  what  it  means  knows  that  they  ai-e 
getting  ready  to  go.  And  then  come  the  later  days  of  October — the 
sad,  the  sweet,  the  melancholy,  the  deep  days  of  October.  And  the 
bu-ds  are  less  and  less.  And  in  November,  high  up,  you  see  the  sky 
streaked  with  water-fowl  going  souihward ;  and  strange  noises  in  the 
night,  of  these  pilgrims  of  the  sky,  they  shall  hear  whose  ears  are  at- 
tuned to  natural  history.  Birds  in  flocks,  one  after  another,  wing  theu- 
way  to  the  south.  Summer  is  gone  ;  and  I  am  left  behind ;  but  they 
are  happy.  And  I  think  I  can  hear  them  singing  in  all  those  states 
clear  down  to  the  Gulf  They  have  found  where  the  sun  is  never  cold. 
With  us  are  frosts,  but  not  with  the  bird  that  has  migrated. 

Oh,  mother!  my  heart  breaks  with  your  heart  when  your  cradle  is 
empty;  but  shall  I  call  back  the  child?  Nay  ;  sooner  pluck  a  star  out 
of  heaven  than  call  back  that  child  to  this  wintry  blast.  Shall  I  call 
back  your  young  and  dear  and  blooming  friend  ?  Nay.  You  are  left 
in  some  bitterness  for  a  time ;  but  make  not  a  man  out  of  angel  again. 
Let  him  rejoice. 

In  all  our  outlook,  and  in  all  our  forelook,  dying  is  triumphing. 
Not  any  bower  of  roses  is  so  festooned  in  June.  Not  where  the  jessa- 
mine and  honeysuckle  twine,  and  lovers  sit,  is  there  so  foir  a  sight,  so 
sweet  a  prospect,  as  where  a  soul,  in  its  early  years,  is  flying  away  out 
of  life,  and  out  of  time,  through  the  gate  of  death — the  rosy  gate  of 
aeath ;  the  royal  gate  of  death ;  the  golden  gate  of  death ;  the  pearly 
gate  of  death. 

It  is  guilt  and  fear  that  blacken  dying.  Hope  and  love  make  it 
sweeter  than  being  born.  And  so  the  day  of  death  is  better  than  the 
day  of  birth  ;  and  it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mournaig  than  to 
the  house  of  feasting.  It  is  really  so  to  those  wh©  know  it,  and  put  it 
to  proof. 

And  to  the  young  I  say.  If  you  would  be  happy,  do  not  live  with 
an  unsettled  account     It  is  the  special  boast  of  some  men  that  they 


PREPARA  TION  FOR  PEA  TS,  415 

are  out  of  debt.  They  reflect  upon  it  with  unfeigned  satisfaction.  It 
is  a  source  of  great  happiness  to  them.  And  you  shall  sometimes  hear 
one  man  say  to  another,  as  it  were  in  defiance,  "  Do  I  owe  you  any- 
thing, sir  ?"  "  I  believe  not,"  says  the  other.  "  No,  sir,  nor  any  other 
man,  thank  God  !  I  own  my  house,  and  eveiything  I  have.  I  do  not 
owe  anybody,  and  nobody  can  hurt  me."  Then  there  are  other  men 
who  at  every  corner  they  turn  expect  a  hand  to  grab  them.  They 
owe,  and  cannot  pay ;  and  every  day  they  go  dodging  about,  and  resort 
to  various  shifting  devices,  to  avoid  their  creditors.  And  what  sort  of 
a  life  is  that  ?  Just  such  a  life  as  hundreds  and  thousands  of  young 
men  are  living,  who  all  the  time  feel  that  there  is  a  gloom  coming  down 
on  their  joys.  Because  they  know  that  they  are  not  prepared  to  die, 
they  are  perpetually  dreading  the  future. 

Now  for  pleasure's  sake — certainly  for  honor's  sake  and  duty's  sake, 
but  even  for  pleasure's  sake — it  is  wise  that  the  young  should  prepare 
for  death  while  they  are  yet  young,  and  keep  that  preparation  up  all 
the  way  through  life. 

And  if  it  be  wise  for  them,  certainly  it  is  wise  for  those  who  are 
advancing  in  life — those  whose  days  are  numbered.  There  are  a  great 
many  such  before  me.  There  are  men  here  whose  years  make  it  right 
that  I  should  call  them  my  fathers,  who  have  lived  scores  and  scores 
of  years,  and  who  are  to  day  witnesses  against  themselves,  that  they 
have  never  made  any  preparation  for  dying.  They  think  they  are 
honest,  and,  as  the  world  goes,  they  are.  They  are  industrious,  they 
are  frugal,  they  are  straight  as  citizens,  they  are  kind  as  householders, 
they  have  a  great  many  vu'tues ;  but  all  of  these  virtues  do  not  amount 
to  a  preparation  to  meet  God,  and  to  dwell  with  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect.  And  they  know  it.  They  have  been  for  forty  years 
talking  about  the  subject  of  religion,  but  they  have  not  advanced  one 
single  step  toward  it ;  and  they  are  living  as  far  from  preparation  and 
from  hope  as  they  ever  were.  But  time  is  dealing  with  them,  and  it 
cannot  but  be  that  in  a  few  yeai's  the  places  that  now  know  them  will 
know  them  no  more  forever.  I  appeal  to  everyone  who  is  going  on  in 
life,  and  who  has  been  years  and  years  thinking  of  this  subject  of  life  and 
death,  whether  it  is  not  time  for  them  to  change,  and  change  at  once. 
Is  there  any  command  that  comes  home  to  you,  in  exhortation,  with 
more  affecting  earnestness  than  that  of  our  text  ? 

There  are  some  of  you  that  God  is  dealing  with.  There  are  some 
of  you  that  cannot  rest.  Your  consciences  are  sore.  Your  fears  are 
more  fliithful  to  you  than  you  are  to  yourselves.  There  are  some  of 
you  who  are  living  in  known  sin.  There  are  some  of  you  who,  if 
you  could  detach  yourselves  from  certain  coiu'ses,  would  have  nothing 
to  hinder  your  reconciliation  with  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     There  ai'e 


416  PBEPARA  TION  FOB  BEA  TH, 

many  of  you  that  are  rolling  sin  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  your 
tongue.  But  you  are  not  happy  in  it.  Is  it  not  strange  that  men 
are  not  detached  from  then*  sins  by  the  want  of  enjoyment  ?  Many 
and  many  a  man  says,  "  I  cannot  give  up  my  cup ;  and  yet  it  makes 
me  wretched."  Many  a  man  says,  "  I  cannot  give  up  my  illicit  life  ; 
and  yet  it  is  a  torment  to  me  all  the  time."  There  are  those  who 
knowingly  give  themselves  up  to  dishonesties,  impurities,  and  dissipa- 
tions of  various  kinc!s.  Death  is  coming  on  step  by  steji.  They  are 
dragging  themselves  literally  to  the  point  of  disaster.  And  they  reluc- 
tate at  times.  Sometimes  they  weep,  and  sometimes  they  breathe 
prayers.  Yet  they  do  not  change.  And  one  after  another  will  di'op 
out  of  life  like  men  that  fall  over  a  precipice  so  high  that  we  do  not 
hear  the  report.  They  Avill  disappear  ;  and  friends  coming  back,  will 
ask,  "Where  is  A.?"  and  the  reply  will  be,  "Oh!  he  died  and  was 
buried  twelve  months  ago."  "  Where  is  B.  f  "  He  played  out  about 
six  months  ago."  "Where  is  C.  ?"  "He  has  taken  up  lodgings  in 
Greenwood."  So  men,  with  these  ghastly  pleasantries,  cover  x\^  all 
their  fears,  and  that  greatest  event  of  life — going  out  of  it.  And  there 
are  men  within  the  sound  of  my  voice  who  are  trembling  now,  and 
who  know  that,  above  everything  else,  they  need  that  some  hand 
should  take  them  up,  with  irresistible  power,  and  put  theii*  life  where 
their  moral  sense  is  already,  and  do  for  them  what  they  are  too  irreso- 
lute to  do  for  themselves. 

But  the  time  is  short ;  and  if  you  are  to  do  it  for  yourselves  (  as  you 
must ;  for  there  is  no  hand  but  yours  to  do  it)  you  need  to  be  in  a 
hurry.  JBe  ye  ready  !  To  some  of  you,  this,  if  it  is  not  the  last  time, 
is  among  the  last  times,  that  you  will  enjoy  the  privileges  of  the 
sanctuary.  The  years  are  unmerciful,  and  are  bearing  you  away,  be- 
yond preaching,  and  beyond  the  solicitude  of  the  Gospel,  toward  God, 
and  toward  the  inevitable  doom  of  sin  and  sinners. 

And  so  I  say  to  you,  Oh,  my  fiiends  ! — ye  that  are  living  in  sin, 
Prepare  to  meet  your  God.  He  makes  haste.  The  days  are  going. 
Watch  ;  be  sober ;  be  ready ;  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not,  the 
Son  of  man  cometh. 

And  so,  as  helpless  as  a  child,  I  have  drifted  through  this  subject, 
and  come  to  the  end  of  it,  and  done  nothing,  to  my  own  thought  and 
seeming.  I  think  there  is  no  place  where  a  man  feels  his  helplessness 
eo  much  as  when  he  stands  between  two  great  worlds,  and  strives  to 
deal  with  men.  There  is  no  fortress  that  is  so  inaccessible  as  the  hu- 
man heart.  There  is  no  place  where  a  man  feels  his  skill,  his  wit,  hia 
knowledge,  his  power,  so  baffled  as  when  he  stands  in  the  jjresence  of 
a  living  man,  and  attempts  to  lift  hira  out  of  animalism,  and  out  of 
sordid  passions,  and  out  of  worldly  moods,  into  a  pure,  serene  and  heav- 


PEEPABATION  FOR  BEATS.  417 

enly  mood.  I  shall  sooner  stand  and  say  to  the  flowers,  "Come  forth  !" 
and  see  the  flowers  obey  my  call,  than  stand  in  the  midst  of  such  a  deaf 
assembly  as  this,  and  say  to  the  impui-e,  "Come  into  pmity !"  to  the  hard, 
"  Come  into  the  sweetness  of  love  ;"  to  the  suspicious,  "  Come  into  sim- 
plicity and  trust,"  and  to  the  worldly-minded,  "  Be  ye  heavenly  minded, 
and  set  your  affections  on  things  above,  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
where  Christ  sitteth,"  and  have  them  do  my  bidding. 

All  power  is  as  nothing.  Yet  I  yearn  ;  I  long  ;  I  strive  ;  I  pray. 
As  an  ambassador  in  Christ's  stead,  I  beseech  you,  be  ye  reconciled  to 
God.  To-day  I  say  to  the  young,  Death  loves  to  riddle  ;  and  if  you 
think  you  are  in  no  danger  of  dying  because  you  are  young,  I  beseech 
you,  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Greenwood,  and  read  the  ages.  That  is  a 
lesson  for  any  man  to  learn.  Take  the  averages  of  those  ages,  and  see 
whether  men  die  young  and  in  the  prime  of  life  or  not. 

I  beseech  of  you  (and  there  is  nothing  that  carries  your  whole  rea- 
son and  judgment  and  conscience  more  than  this)  do  not  defer  any 
longer  a  preparation  for  dying.  It  will  be  an  evil  hour  if  you  repent 
on  your  death-bed.  It  may  be  with  yom'  reason  clouded ;  it  may  be 
amidst  tempestuous  fears  ;  it  may  be  in  an  ntter  apathy.  Prepare  now ; 
for  the  best  preparation  for  dying  is  right  living. 

To  you  that  are  young,  to  you  my  fathers,  and  to  you  my  own 
equals  in  age,  I  come  bearing  the  message  of  your  Master.  Heaven 
waits  for  you.  The  joy  of  heaven  may  be  yours.  And  all  the  disas- 
ters, all  the  terrors,  of  sin  and  guilt  and  shame,  wait  for  those  that  do 
not  turn  from  their  wickedness  to  God,  and  witness  for  life.  I  stand 
between  the  flame  and  the  crown,  and  cry  out  to  you.  Prepare  to  meet 
your  God !  For  the  day  makes  haste.  Your  time  is  short.  Your 
■work  is  great.  Do  not  procrastinate  any  longer.  Begin  to-day,  in 
prayer,  and  consecration,  and  simplicity,  and  earnestness,  to  live  a 
Christian  life.  And  God  will  be  glad,  and  Christ  will  rejoice  over  you, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  will  help  and  sanctify  you. 


418  PREP  ABA  TION  FOR  PEA  TH. 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE   SERMON. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  that  thou  bast  not  clothed  thyself  with  terror;  that 
thou  dost  not  till  the  future  with  fear.  We  draw  near  to  thee  by  Him  who  is  called 
Sariour,  Friend,  Redeemer  ;  and  when  we  are  taken  by  his  hand  and  presented  to  thee  we 
behold  thy  name.  It  is  Father.  We  are  taught  to  call  thee  by  this  endearing  name. 
And  what  fear  can  come  with  thee?  What  dread  can  there  be  of  thee  ?  In  thee  is  refuge 
and  rescue  to  those  that  are  outside  of  thee,  tossed  with  fear  and  with  dread.  We  take 
refuge  as  children  in  our  Father's  house.  We  run  to  thee  in  every  lime  of  fear,  that  we 
may  be  saved.  And  we  rejoice.  The  more  we  put  thee  to  proof  and  trust  thee,  the 
more  dost  thou  reveal  thyself  in  our  experience,  past  all  doubt,  a  faithful,  cov- 
enant-keeping God.  Every  word  of  thy  promise  is  Yea  and  Amen.  We  are  helpless. 
None  of  us  can  do  our  duty  in  full.  We  are  sinful,  weak,  imperfect,  stumbling, 
erring  every  day  and  every  moment.  And  all  are  pensioners  of  love.  It  is  not  to  meas- 
ure out  our  desert  that  thou  d(jst  give.  It  is  not  that  we  are  worthy.  It  is  that  thou  art 
generous.  It  is  because  thou  art  that  nature  of  love  which  delights  to  give  to  the  un- 
worthy, and  by  giving  make  them  worthy.  Thou  dost  fill  up  our  deficiency  with  thy 
goodness,  and  bring  us  very  near  to  thee,  because  it  pleases  thee  to  do  these  things.  This 
is  the  royalty  of  thy  heart.  Here  dost  thou  love  to  sit  with  justice  to  defend;  to  love:  to 
draw  all  thine  unto  thyself.  And  when  thou  dost  draw  thy  sword  and  smite  thine  ene- 
mies, it  is  that,  being  wounded,  they  may  be  made  whole;  that,  being  slain,  they  may 
bo  brought  to  life  again  with  a  more  glorious  life.  Thou  dost  seek  to  subdue  thine 
advesraries  by  thy  grace  and  by  thy  mercy;  and  the  goodness  of  God  leads  us  to  repent- 
ance. Forbid  that  we  should  overthrow  all  the  purposes  of  thy  goodness,  and  treasure 
up  for  ourselves  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath,  and  call  down  upon  our  heads  God's 
righlcoiis  retribution  against  the  wicked.  Forbid  that  our  selfishness  should  refuse  thy 
bounty;  that  our  obstinacy  should  resist  thy  sweet  persuasion;  and  that  our  sordid  and 
secular  minds  should  be  unconscious  of  all  that  precious  treasure  which  thou  dost  offer 
to  our  faith.  O  thou  that  dost  bring  forth  summer  out  of  winter,  briag  forth,  we  pray 
thee,  out  of  our  cold  and  hard  hearts  the  pleasant  fruits  of  righteousness.  And  grant 
that  the  word  of  truth  which  shall  be  spoken  to-day,  may  be  spoken  with  seriousness 
and  earnestness,  with  simplicity  and  directness;  and  grant  that  the  Spirit  of  God  may 
bear  it  home  to  every  soul  that  shall  need  its  special  lesson. 

Are  there  those  in  thy  presence  that  have  come  up  hither  burdened  in  heart?  O  thou 
that  didst  command  the  morning  to  come  forth  from  the  night  again  !  shine  upon  the 
most  dark  and  troubled  souls.  May  they  find  their  way  to  thee,  and,  bearing  tears,  come 
away  with  songs.  Are  there  those  that  are  heavily  laden?  O,  may  they  hear  thee  say- 
ing. Come  to  me  and  find  rest  to  your  souls.  Are  there  those  that  have  disported  them- 
selves in  their  wild  and  natural  liberty  ?  May  they  hear  God  calling  them  and  saying, 
Take  my  yoke  upon  you.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  there  may  be  many  who  shall  look 
from  their  trouble  to  that  great  joy  and  peace  which  thou  hast  for  all  troubled  souls. 
Are  there  any  that  are  thinking  of  their  way,  and  are  dissatisfied  with  the  past,  and  anx- 
ious for  the  future,  and  yet  dare  to  hope  ?  Reveal  to  them  this  day  the  pleasant  face  of 
Jesus  reconciled  to  them  in  love,  if  they  are  loving  and  reconciled.  And  may  they  hear 
their  Father  and  their  God  offering  to  them  full  and  free  forgiveness.  Whatever  may 
have  been  their  sins,  how  long  soever  they  may  have  been  sinning,  thy  heart  is  ample 
enough  for  full  forgiveness  to  every  one.  The  very  chief  of  sinners  may  come  to  thee 
and  live. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  those  who  are  beginning  with  feeble  steps  to  tread  the 
royal  way,  may  have  the  stumbling-blocks  taken  out  oft  heir  pith.  May  they  find  that 
they  are  growing  stronger.  More  and  more  may  the  light  dawn  as  they  travel  on  toward 
the  celestial  gate.  May  none  of  them  cast  away  their  hope.  May  none  of  them  count 
themselves  unworthy  of  eternal  life,  and  go  back.  May  every  one  press  forward  toward 
the  Sacred  Heart. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  0  Lord  our  God,  that  those  who  labor  in  holy  things  may  be 
themselves  quickened;  that  they  may  bo  filled  more  with  ihe  Spirit  of  their  Father  in 
heaTea. 


PREPARA  TlOJSr  FOR  DEA  TH.  419 

Oh!  grant  a  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  the  young  in  this  congregation,  and  ihoso  gath- 
ered in  our  Sabbath  schools,  and  in  our  IJiblo  classes.  Sanctity  those  that  teach;  and 
may  those  that  are  taught  be  brougtit  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  Jesus  Chribt  lor  the  sal- 
vation of  their  souls. 

Wo  beseech  thee  that  all  the  influences  that  go  forth  from  this  Church  audits  various 
operations,  may  be  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  God.  May  we  be  saved  from  pride  and 
from  vanity  and  from  scir-indulgeiico.  May  we  be  saved  from  adulation,  and  from 
everything  that  shall  tarnish  simplicity  and  humility  and  purity  and  childlikeuess  before 
God  our  Father.  Grant  that  thy  people  hero  may  be  bold  to  rebuke  and  to  resist  ini- 
quity. May  they  bo  gentle,  and  kind,  and  easy  to  be  entreated  by  those  who  are  in 
need.  And  we  pray  that  more  and  more  bound  together  by  love  among  themsel vis,  and 
more  and  more  tilled  and  refilled  from  the  fouutain  thereof  in  God,  they  may  walk 
toward  the  celestial  city,  singing  as  they  go,  and  triumphing  ere  they  meet  their  foe, 
and  passing  as  conquerors,  crowned  and  laureled,  through  death  itself;  and  that  they 
may  appear  in  Zion  and  before  God. 

"We  beseech  of  thee,  that  thoa  wilt  bless  us  all,  and  that  thou  wilt  bless  to  us  all  the 
dispensations  of  thy  providence.  Thou  art  taking  one  and  another  out  of  our  midst. 
Thou  art  calling  home  many  from  among  us.  We  thank  thee  for  their  life,  for  their 
victory,  for  all  our  faith  and  gladness  for  their  joy  above.  How  precious  are  they  making 
the  heavens !  How  many  stars  now  that  once  we  saw  not  are  shining  out !  IIow  many 
are  there  of  memories !  How  many  are  there  of  associations  I  How  many  are  there  of 
blessed  chords  of  love  that  draw  our  hearts  thither !  How  shall  we  realize  that  great 
future  in  vehich  once  no  man  dwelt  to  us,  but  which  is  now  made  populous  !  It  is  the 
city  of  our  God,  and  our  city.  And  forth  there  will  come  how  many,  from  the  gates  to 
greet  us — some  whom  we  have  helped;  some  whom  we  have  borne  and  taught,  and  now 
are  teaching  us  to  fight  our  way  to  them,  and  so  our  way  to  heaven  !  Grant,  O  Lord ! 
that  this  heavenly  land  may  be  brought  veiy  near  to  us  to-day.  May  we  H'joice  in  its 
joys.  May  its  overflow  come  down  as  the  rains  from  the  clouds  upon  us.  May  our 
affections  spring  up  as  the  flowers  after  the  dew.  And  may  our  hearts  be  glad,  looking 
heavenward  to-day,  in  its  promises,  and  in  our  holy  hopes  and  expectations. 

And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  thy  blessing  may  rest  upon  the  Churches  that  are 
gathered  together  to-day  everywhere,  and  upon  those  that  shall  preach  thy  gospel.  May 
every  one  have  more  and  more  light.  Increase  to-day  more  and  more  earnestness  and 
fidelity.  And  make  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  to  spread  abroad.  And  make  the 
power  of  his  name  to  be  felt,  so  that  justice  shall  grow  stronger;  so  that  there  shall  bo 
more  intelligence  and  less  ignorance^  so  that  men  shall  grow  humane  and  kind,  one  to 
another;  so  that  civilization  shall  be  full  of  Christ;  and  so  that  all  this  nation,  and  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  shall  at  last  sie  thy  salvation. 

And  to  the  Father,  the  Sou,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  shall  be  praises  evermore.    Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERM0:N". 

Our  Father,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  word  which  has  been  spoken,  to  the 
consideration  of  every  one.  Help  dying  souls.  Help  the  children  that  have  no  parents 
to  pray  for  them.  Help  the  young  that  have  drifted  away  from  the  restraiuts  and  guar- 
dianship ot  home.  Help  those  that  are  in  the  midst  of  life,  and  fixed  fast  in  habits 
which  they  know  not  how  to  break.  Help  the  advanced  who  are  beginning  to  feel  the 
infirmities  of  age.  Oh  !  grant  that  every  pain  may  be  as  the  voice  of  a  prophet  saying 
to  them.  Prepare!  Grant  that  every  sign  of  weakness  may  say  to  them,  Pvepare!  May 
they  see  messengers,  one  and  another,  all  the  way  along  the  road  which  they  travel, 
growing  thicker  every  day,  and  more  loud-voiced,  faying  to  them.  Be  ready  !  Prepare  to 
meet  thy  God!  Lord  Jesus,  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  answer  the  prayers  that  long  have 
been  delayed,  and  bring  in  at  last  the  reluctant.  Win  them  and  wear  them  in  thine 
everlasting  glory.  And  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  shall  be  praises 
evermore.    Ainen. 


XXVI. 

Fidelity  to  Conviction. 


/L 


FIDELITY  TO  COIYICTION. 


"  Jesns  heard  that  they  had  east  him  out ;  and  when  he  had  fonnd  him,  he  said  unto  him, 
Dost  thou  believe  on  the  Son  of  God?  He  answered  and  said,  Who  is  he.  Lord,  that  I  mif^ht 
believe  on  him  ?  And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thou  hast  both  seen  him,  and  it  is  he  that  tallteth 
with  theei    And  he  said,  Lord,  I  believe.    And  he  worshipped  him."— John  IX.  35 — 38. 


This  is  the  very  affecting  close  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and 
dramatic  passages  of  the  history  of  our  Lord  which  have  been  recorded. 
It  was  recorded  by  John.  Almost  every  instance  of  the  Master's 
experience  which  involves  insight,  which  requires  a  sense  of  what  is 
going  on  in  men's  thoughts  and  feelings,  will  be  found  more  fully 
recorded  by  John  than  by  the  other  Evangelists. 

It  seems  that  a  blind  man,  well-known  in  the  vicinity  of  Jerusalem, 
who  had  been  blind  from  birth,  sat  begging,  and  that  the  Master, 
having  compassion  upon  him,  healed  him  of  his  blindness.  The  cu*- 
cumstances  were  so  striking,  the  case  was  so  public,  and  it  happened 
80  to  strike  the  imagination  of  the  people,  and  to  lead  them  to  infer 
the  superior  authority  of  Christ,  that  it  produced  a  tremendous  excite- 
ment. It  was  one  of  those  little  things  which,  happening  to  strike 
right,  produced  very  disproportionate  results  from  what  one  would 
have  expected. 

There  were  numbers  of  blind  men  healed  by  the  Saviour ;  many 
lepera ;  many  palsied ;  many  afilicted  with  fevers  and  di-opsies.  His 
life  was  almost  a  continuous  miracle  of  mercy.  On  many  days  it  was 
impossible  to  instance  the  healings  which  he  performed.  And  yet,  no 
great  excitement  followed,  except  that  of  general  wonder.  There  was 
no  conflict  under  ordinary  cu'cumstances.  But  it  was  different  in  this 
case.     On  this  occasion  a  veiy  great  conflict  arose. 

As  soon  as  the  man  was  healed  (for  Christ  made  a  salve  of  spittle 
and  clay,  and  anointed  his  eyes,  and  told  him  to  go  to  the  pool  of 
Siloam,  that  was  but  a  little  distance  from  the  temple,  near  which, 
doubtless,  he  sat — though  that  fact  is  not  expressly  stated — to  wash  ; 
and  he  went  and  washed,  and  returned  seeing) — as  soon  as  he  was 
healed,  and  came  back,  a  buzz  went  through  the  whole  neighborhood. 
For  everybody  knew  this  man.     He  was  a  landmark. 

Sunday  Evening,  March  6,  1870.  Lebson:  Psa.  CITL  1—18.  Htmns  (Plymontli  Colleo- 
tion)  :  Is"  OS.  1278,  1291,  1336. 


422  FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION. 

"The  neighbors  therefore,  and  they  which  before  had  seen  him  that  he  was  blind, 
said,  Is  not  this  he  tbat  sat  and  begged  1  Some  said.  This  is  he;  others  [very  cautious 
folks]  said,  He  is  like  him;  but  he  said,  I  am  he." 

The  man  did  not  like  to  lose  his  personal  identity  just  because  he 
had  got  his  sight.     It  is  not  very  flattering  to  a  man's  self-love  to  go 
back  among  his  neighbors  and  have  folks  doubting  who  he  is,  and  what  ■ 
he  is. 

"  Therefore  said  they  unto  him,  How  were  thine  eyes  opened  ?  He  answered  and 
said,  A  man  that  is  called  Jesus,  made  clay,  and  anointed  mine  eyes,  and  said  unto  me. 
Go  to  the  pool  of  Siloam,  and  wash;  and  I  went  and  washed,  and  I  receiyed  sight. 
Then  said  they  unto  him,  Where  is  he  ?    He  said,  I  know  not." 

You  see  perfect  simplicity  here.  He  was  as  child-like  as  a  man  could 
be.  And  this  great  mii-acle  had  been  wrought  upon  him,  not  on  account 
of  any  worth  that  was  in  him ;  not  because  he  was  knowledgeable ; 
not  because  he  had  any  relation  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  He  was 
not  eminent  in  station.  He  had  no  influence ;  he  had  no  property  ;  he 
had  nothing  except  misery.  And  that  was  the  whole  and  sole  reason 
why  this  great  mii-acle  of  God  was  performed  upon  him — his  misery. 
That  is  reason  enough  in  the  sight  of  God.  That  a  man  is  sinful,  is  a 
reason  w^hy  he  should  have  forgiveness.  That  a  man  is  an  enemy  of 
God,  is  a  reason  why  he  should  be  accepted  by  love  and  educated  to 
virtue.  That  a  man  is  wandering  far  away,  is  a  reason  why  he  should 
be  sought  after  and  brought  back.  God  measures  his  mercies  by  our 
need,  and  by  his  own  generosity. 

"  They  brought  to  the  Pharisees  him  that  aforetime  was  blind." 

They  went  to  the  Pharisees  just  as  now  men  go  to  the  minister  with 
questions  which  they  cannot  answer  themselves.  And  there  was  no 
impropriety  in  it,  in  such  an  instance  as  that.  "  Every  man  to  his 
trade,"  it  is  said.  If  my  watch  is  out  of  order,  I  never  attempt  to 
put  it  in  order  myself,  but  take  it  to  the  watch-maker.  If  my  clothes 
need  repairing  I  take  them  to  the  clothes-repau-er.  If  I  have  a  law 
question  to  be  solved,  I  go  to  the  lawyer.  If  I  am  sick,  I  go  to  the 
physician.  And  so  it  is  in  every  sphere  of  life.  If,  therefore,  one  has 
casuistical  questions,  ethical  doubts,  it  is  proper  for  him  to  go  to  those 
who  make  these  things  their  study.  And  the  Jewish  people  went  to 
the  Pharisees. 

Who  were  the  Pharisees  ?  They  were  the  men  who  represented 
the  patriotic  purity  of  their  times.  They  were  the  men  who  felt  the 
burden  of  standing  up  for  Palestine,  as  against  foreign  invaders.  Not 
only  that,  they  were  the  men  who  stood  up  for  the  old  worship — not 
for  the  old  theology  ;  but  for  the  old  worship.  They,  therefore,  ad- 
^iressed  themselves  in  many  ways  to  the  pride  and  the  self-love  of  the 
Jewish  nation.  Externally,  there  was  very  much  about  the  sect  of  the 
Pharisees  which  was  winning  and  commendable.  There  is  no  question 
but  that  on  a  very  low  plane  they  acted  according  to  theii*  sense  of 


FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION.  423 

duty.  They  loved  their  own  people,  and  they  loved  their  own  heredi- 
tary institutions  and  worship ;  and  they  were  willing,  not  only  to  be 
witnesses  for  them,  but  to  suffer  something  for  the  maintenance  of 
them.  But,  judged  upon  a  higher  plane,  and  by  a  spiritual  law  of 
truth,  they  were  very  proud,  they  were  very  selfish,  and  they  never 
learned  how  to  maintain  the  truth  so  as  at  the  same  time  to  make  it 
invariably  humane,  merciful,  sympathetic.  Of  this  they  were  igno- 
rant ;  and  they  were  constantly  stumbling  into  morality  ;  and  were 
constantly  using  their  orthodoxy  as  a  screw  by  which  to  crush  somebody, 
or  something.  This  set  the  Master  very  vehemently  against  them. 
They  were  men  to  whom  the  theory  of  truth  was  more  precious  than  the 
people  to  whom  the  truth  was  sent.  They  were  men  to  whom  Juda- 
ism was  more  precious  than  the  Jews.  They  were  men  who  loved 
their  party,  and  who,  for  the  sake  of  then*  party,  would  give  up  eveiy- 
thing  that  the  party  was  good  for — namely,  the  benefits  which  it  could 
give  to  poor,  suffering  humanity. 

Such  were  the  Pharisees ;  and  to  them,  as  the  teachers  and  author- 
itative expounders  of  whatever  was  peculiar  to  the  Jewish  economy, 
the  people  brought  this  man,  that  they  might  solve  the  difficulty.  For 
they  brought  him,  evidently,  not  because  it  was  a  kind  thing  that  had 
been  done,  but  because  they  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

There  must  have  been  something  more  than  is  stated  in  this  nan'a- 
tive.  We  judge  it  by  the  shadow  Avhich  it  casts.  It  evidently  existed 
in  the  minds  of  the  people.  We  see  it  in  the  fact  of  their  bringing 
him  to  the  Pharisees,  not  only,  but  in  the  peculiar  state  of  mind  in 
which  the  Pharisees  met  the  question.  It  is  very  plain  that  the  work- 
ing of  this  miracle  had  produced  a  very  powerful  impression  in  favor 
of  the  divinity  of  Christ  himself,  as  an  antagonistic  force  to  the  Phari- 
sees ;  for  they  were  thrown  instantly  upon  self-defence. 

Therefore,  the  crowd,  that  had  this  kind  of  vague  influence  exerted 
upon  them,  went  to  the  Pharisees  to  see  what  they  thought  about  this 
man — as  much  as  to  say,  "  Here  is  a  man  who  has  healed  one  that  was 
born  blind  ;  and  is  not  this  the  Son  of  God  ?  Is  not  this  the  j^romised 
Messiah  ?"  Evidently  tliat  was  the  lurking  feeling,  the  motive,  which 
^ed  them  to  go  to  the  Pharisees.  They  wanted  to  see  what  the  Phari- 
sees had  to  say  about  it. 

"It  was  the  Sabbath-day -when  Jesus  made  the  clay,  and  opened  his  eyes.  Then 
again  the  Pharisees  also  [as  the  citizens  had  done]  asked  him  [the  man]  how  he  had  re- 
ceived his  sight.  He  said  unto  them,  He  put  clay  upon  mine  eyes,  and  I  washed,  and 
do  see." 

It  was  not  necessary,  in  the  state  of  feeling,  in  the  temper,  which 
existed  among  the  Parisees,  to  come  any  nearer  than  that.  Akeady 
Jesus  had  made  his  presence  fill  the  whole  land.  He  was  in  every- 
body's thoughts.     Therefore,  when  the  man  said  "  he,"  it  must  have 


424  FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTIOK 

been  Jesus  that  was  meant,  as  there  was  but  One  who  could  be  desig» 
nated  by  that  term. 

•'Therefore  said  some  of  the  Pharisees,  this  man  is  not  of  God." 

Why!  that  is  a  queer  mference.  Here  was  a  man  that  found  a 
poor  wretch  who  lived  by  begging  ;  who,  being  deprived  of  the  means 
of  going  about  and  helping  himself,  was  an  object  of  universal  com- 
passion and  charity.  Here  was  a  man  that  was  a  stranger  to  this  poor 
creature  ;  that  had  perhaps  never  seen  him  before  ;  that  held  no  rela- 
tion of  kinship  to  him  ;  and  that,  for  no  earthly  reason  but  that  of 
general  compassion,  had  healed  him.  And  the  man  was  rejoicing  in 
then*  midst  with  full  eyesight  One  would  think  that  everybody  would 
have  said,  "  Whoever  you  are,  you  have  done  a  divine  thing."  But 
when  this  man  was  brought,  and  he  testified  that  Jesus  had  restored 
his  sight,  some  of  the  Pharisees  said,  "This  man  is  not  of  God."  Why? 
Was  not  that  a  divine  beneficence  ?  Was  not  that  a  thing  worthy  of 
God  ?  To  raise  a  suffering  creature  out  of  his  darkness  and  into  light 
and  joy — is  not  that  divine  ?     Oh  !  hear  them  : 

"  This  man  ianot  of  God,  because  he  keepeth  not  the  Sabbath  day." 

What  is  the  sabbath=day  ?  It  is  a  conventional  arrangement.  It 
is  a  mere  artificial  custom.  It  is  a  very  good  thing  ;  but  it  is  a  part 
of  the  world's  harness.  It  is  a  mere  servant  of  man.  As  Christ  said,  on 
another  occasion,  "  The  sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for 
the  sabbath."  And  here,  in  the  place  of  this  miracle,  of  this  wondrous 
humanity  and  mercy,  there  were  Pharisees  found  who  stroked  their 
beard,  and  looked  upon  the  man  with  stern  eye,  and  said,  "  He  is  not 
of  God ;  for  he  does  not  keep  the  Sabbath !" 

There  are  men  who  are  utterly  dead  to  all  moral  sensibility,  but 
quick,  jealous,  in  regard  to  any  church  arrangement — anything  that  a 
priest  has  charge  of;  anything  that  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  have 
authority  over.  Not  to  keep  an  hour,  not  to  read  a  lesson,  not  to  put 
a  bow  or  a  garment  on  just  right — that  is  a  sin  ;  but  to  wound  a  fellow 
man,  or  to  neglect  to  relieve  a  fellow  man  who  is  in  trouble,  is  a  matter 
of  very  little  consequence  !  To  do  a  kindness  to  a  creature  that  is  suf- 
fering is  well  enough  in  its  way  ;  but  under  these  cu'cumstances  it  was 
not  "  orthodox,"  and  so  was  to  be  condemned  ! 

Here  is  a  case  that  looks  very  hateful  when  we  see  it  as  having  oc- 
cun-ed  two  thousand  years  ago,  in  a  Pharisee ;  and  it  ought  to  look  just 
as  hateful  to-day  when  you  see  it  in  yourselves.  A  great  fundamental 
humanity  ought  to  stand  higher  in  every  man's  regard  than  any  philos- 
ophy, than  any  observance  of  days,  than  any  ecclesiastical  arrangement, 
or  than  any  civil  law. 

But  the  Pharisees  were  not  all  so  fierce  as  that.  There  were  some 
good  men  among  them.  Because,  when  this  thing  was  propounded  as 
the  theory, 


FIDELITY  TO  CONYICTIOK  425 

"  Others  said,  How  can  a  man  that  is  a  sinner  do  such  miracles?  And  there  ^as  a 
division  among  them." 

They  resort,  then,  to  the  man,  once  more,  and  give  another  turn  to 
the  screw. 

"  Tlicy  pay  unto  the  blind  man  again,  What  sayestthouof  him,  that  he  hath  opened 
thine  eyes?    He  said,  He  is  a  prophet." 

He  understood  tlie  question  to  be,  What  further  was  the  impres- 
sion that  yon  derived?  And  he,  in  his  simplicity  (for  he  was  good- 
tempered  yet)  said,  "lie  is  a  prophet." 

That  was  all  he  knew  about  it.  That  was  a  real  Jewish  answer. 
Anybody  that  was  on  a  higher  level ;  anybody  that  was,  for  instance, 
a  teacher,  and  a  good  man,  was  supposed,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  be 
a  prophet. 

"  But  the  Jews  did  not  believe  concerning  hiaa,  that  ho  had  been  blind,  and  re- 
ceived his  sight." 

What  was  the  matter  ?  Why  did  not  they  believe  it  ?  It  was  a 
plain  case.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  What  was  there  that  hin- 
dered their  believing  it  ?  It  was  a  latent  sense,  an  inward  perception, 
that  if  they  admitted  this  miracle,  it  was  going  to  damage  theu*  secta- 
rian interest.     That  was  the  trouble  with  them. 

Now  see  to  what  ingenuity,  to  what  twistings,  to  what  contortions, 
to  what  moral  obliquities,  this  secret,  silent,  organized  social  selfishness 
will  lead  men. 

"  They  called  the  parents  of  him  that  had  received  his  sight." 

Now  we  shall  have  a  pretty  scene.  Of  course  parents  love  their 
children  ;  and  any  favor  done  to  their  children  will  swell  their  hearts 
with  gratitude  even  more  than  if  it  were  done  to  themselves.  He  that 
blesses  my  child, twice  blesses  me.  He  that  blesses  my  child — let  who- 
ever will  speak  against  him,  or  persecute  him — I  am  his  friend,  and 
I  will  stand  up  for  him,  and  he  shall  never  want  a  defender  as  long 
as  my  heart  beats.  And  every  true  parent  feels  so.  Every  generous 
natm-e  feels  that  a  kindness  done  to  a  friend  is  more  than  a  kindness 
done  to  himself  So  we  shall  see  a  spectacle  of  real,  enthusiastic  pa- 
rental gratitude — "perhaps  ! 

<' They  asked  them,  saying,  Is  this  your  son,  who  ye  say  was  born  blind?  How 
then  doth  he  now  see  ?" 

Rather  a  chilling  question. 

"  His  parents  answered  them  and  said,  "We  know  that  this  is  our  son,  and  that  he 
was  bom  blind  ;  but  by  what  means  ho  now  seoth,  we  know  not ;  or  who  hath  opened 
his  eyes,  we  know  not :  he  is  of  ago.  ask  him  ;  he  shall  speak  for  himself." 

Oh!  the  cowards!  The  mean-spuited  sneaks!  See  how  they 
dodged ;  and  that,  too,  right  in  the  face  of  this  royal  benefaction. 

Now,  is  not  that  human  nature,  after  all?  Do  Ave  not  still  see  just 
such  cowards — men  that  are  afraid — men  in  whom  there  is  no  honor 
and  no  love  to  hold  them  up  so  that  they  will  face  anything  that  is 
dangerous  to  them  ? 


426  FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTIOK 

What  was  the  matter  with  these  parents  ?  Why  were  they  afraid 
to  speak  out  theu-  honest  thoughts'?  For  they  believed,  just  as  much 
as  the  man  himself,  not  only  that  he  was  born  blind,  but  that  Jesus 
had  healed  him.  What  was  the  matter?  I  will  tell  you  what  it 
was. 

"  These  woTds  spake  his  parents,  because  they  feared  the  Jews  ;  for  the  Jews  had 
agreed  already,  that  if  any  man  did  confess  that  he  was  Christ,  he  should  be  put  out  of 
the  Bynagogue." 

Now,  there  is  an  argument  for  you.  The  Jews  had  set  that  up  as 
a  threat  and  a  terror ;  and  these  poor  cowardly  parents  stood  shudder- 
ing under  the  shadow  of  it,  and  did  not  dare  call,  I  will  not  say  their 
soul,  but  their  son,  their  own.  Yes,  they  believed  he  was  their  son  ; 
they  were  sure  about  that ;  but  as  to  who  healed  him  they  were  not 
so  sure.  So  to  get  rid  of  the  consequences  of  answering  this  question, 
they  tucked  it  off  on  to  then-  son,  saying,  "Ask  him." 

What  a  mean,  beggarly  spirit !  I  want  you  to  despise  it  soundly  ; 
for  by-and-by  you  will  have  to  see  the  same  thing  in  yourselves  ;  and 
it  is  well  for  you  to  be  prepared.  I  want  you  should  be  ashamed  of 
being  afraid  to  stand  to  up  for  your  principles  and  for  your  affections. 

"  Therefore  said  his  parents.  He  is  of  age  ;  ask  him." 

Well,  the  case  had  not  gone  very  well  so  far !  The  Pharisees  evi- 
dently were  not  suited.  They  had  made  no  impression  on  the  popular 
mind.  They  had  not  secured  anything  that  was  defensoiy  on  their 
part.  Here  was  this  damaging  miracle  that  was  threatening  to  pro- 
duce a  popular  impression  in  favor  of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus ;  and 
they  could  not  make  head  against  it. 

"  Then  again  called  they  the  man  that  was  blind,  and  said  unto  him  [how  devout 
people  will  bo  when  they  have  a  purpose  for  it !] ,  Give  God  the  praise :  we  know  that 
this  man  is  a  sinner." 

That  settled  it,  then !  If  this  man  had  been  accustomed  to  receive 
his  notions  from  authority,  instead  of  using  the  judgment  and  con- 
science which  God  gave  him,  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  there  probably  would  never  have  been  any  account  of  this  his- 
tory. But,  though  this  man  did  not  set  out  to  be  a  hero,  see  how 
beautiful  he  made  fidelity  to  one's  convictions  to  appear. 

"  He  answered  and  said,  "Whether  he  be  a  sinner  or  no,  I  know  not ;  one  thing  I 
know,  that,  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see." 

Oh !  that  hateful  fact !  That  was  just  the  thing  that  they  wanted 
to  suppress  ;  and  here  the  man  blurted  it  out  again — I  was  hlhid,  and 
horn  blind,  and  I  see,  and  that  man  gave  me  my  sight:  make  the 
best  of  it.     That  did  not  content  them. 

"  Then  they  said  to  him  again,  what  did  he  to  thee  ?  how  opened  he  thine  eyes  ?" 
The  man's  patience  rather  failed  hira.     There  was  something  too  in- 
eulting  in  their  way. 

*'  He  answered  them,  I  have  told  you  already,  and  you  did  not  hear:  wherefore 
would  ye  hear  it  again  1  Will  ye  also  be  his  disciples  ?    Then  they  reviled  him." 


FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION.  427 

Of  course  they  did.     That  is  the  usual  way  in  a  discussion  of  this 

kind.     They  had  got  into  the  marrow  of  the  argument  now. 

"They  said,  Thou  art  his  disciple;  but  we  a'ro  Moses' disciples.  "We  know  that 
God  spake  unto  Moses:  as  for  this  fullow,  we  know  not  from  whence  he  is.  The  man 
answered  and  said  unto  them  ,  WI17,  herein  is  a  marvellous  thing,  that  ye  know  not 
from  whence  ho  is,  and  yet  ho  hath  opened  mine  eyes." 

It  was  as  if  he  had  said,  What  is  the  use  of  having  spiritual  teach- 
ers that  do  not  know  as  much  as  that  %  And  that  ratlier  went  against 
them. 

"  Now  we  know  that  God  hearoth  not  sinners;  but  if  any  man  be  a  worshipper  of 
God,  and  doeth  his  will,  him  he  heareth.  Since  the  world  began  was  it  not  heard  that 
any  man  opened  the  eyes  of  one  that  was  horn  blind.  If  this  man  were  not  of  God  he 
could  do  nothing." 

Brave  fellow  !  How  well  he  stood  up  for  his  benefactor !  What 
a  sermon  he  preached ! — and  he  never  was  ordained,  either. 

Now  it  is  their  turn.  And  then*  discourse  is  now  divided  into  two 
pai'ts — first,  theoretic ;  and  second,  practical.     The  theoretic  was  this : 

"  Thou  wast  altogether  born  in  sins  ;  and  dost  thou  teach  us?" 

That  was  blasphemy  against  the  Pharisees. 

The  practical  part  was: 

"  And  they  cast  him  out." 
Here  is  a  sermon  with  two  heads — the  theory  and  the  practice. 

It  is  at  this  stage  that  the  passage  which  I  have  selected  for  our 
text  comes  in.  The  whole  thing  had  passed.  A  man  sat  begging, 
thoughtless  of  any  mercy — perhaps  expecting  a  dole  of  a  penny;  but 
instead  of  that  he  received  his  sight.  It  was  the  greatest  gift  that  he 
could  have  received.  For,  he  that  has  been  blind,  and  that  receives 
his  sight,  receives  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars.  He  receives  the 
day  and  the  night.  He  receives  all  things  that  grow.  He  receives  all 
things  that  are  beautiful.  And  the  foce  of  father  and  mother,  the  face 
of  wife  and  child,  the  face  of  all  foir  things  on  the  globe,  go  with  the 
gift  of  sight.  It  is  the  simple  putting  of  the  divine  finger  upon  the 
eye.  And  with  the  opening  of  the  eye  comes  all  the  glory  of  the 
heavens  and  of  the  earth.  And  he  that  reached  out  his  hand  for  a 
penny,  received  the  whole  world,  in  being  healed. 

And  then  came  the  tumult  among  the  people  ;  the  questionings 
among  the  neighbors ;  the  controversy  between  him  and  the  Sanhe- 
drim ;  and  the  excommuTiication.  And  when  a  man  was  excommuni- 
cated, he  might  as  well  have  been  dead.  For  all  social  connection  with 
him  was  broken.  No  man  might  entertain  him,  nor  even  speak  to  him, 
if  it  was  the  gredter  exconnnunication.  On  him  the  whole  public  sen- 
timent concentered,  and  he  was  a  cast-away.  Nobody  dared  to  say 
that  he  was  his  friend.  Nobody  dared  to  speak  for  him.  Nobody  dared 
to  take  him  by  the  hand.  Nobody  dared  to  take  him  into  his  house, 
or  to  give  him  employment.      For  there  was  that  same  authority  that 


428  FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION. 

had  excommunicated  him,  threatening  to  excommunicate  any  that  should 
befriend  him.  Therefore  he  was  damned,  so  far  as  ecclesiastical  author- 
ity could  damn  him. 

Our  Saviour  meant  to  do  this  man  a  great  kindness ;  but  see  what 
a  great  disaster  he  brought  upon  him.  The  man  might  very  well  have 
said,  "What  to  me  is  this  eyesight?  It  comes  too  late.  I  can  learn 
no  trade.  I  own  no  land.  I  can  no  longer  beg.  I  have  lost  my  coun- 
try. I  have  lost  my  religion.  I  have  lost  my  friends.  I  am  a  miser- 
able outcast.  I  might  better  be  a  leper,  and  have  men  pity  me  and 
show  mercy  to  me,  than  be  a  well  man,  with  restored  eyesight,  and  have 
nothing  but  starvation."  He  might  very  well  have  said  this  in  his  loneli- 
ness. I  do  not  know  that  he  had  a  single  one  of  these  thoughts.  I  believe 
he  did  not  think  anything  of  the  sort.  For  he  seems  to  have  been 
made  of  sterling  good  stuff.  He  seems  to  have  been  an  honest,  straight- 
forward, courageous  nature. 

It  was  at  this  dark  period  of  his  history  that  the  Master  sought  him 
— for  that  he  did  seek  him  there  can  be  no  doubt.  He  did  not  leave 
nor  forsake  him  when  he  had  taken  the  fii'st  step  toward  ameliorating 
his  condition.  He  followed  him  with  his  sympathy.  And  it  seems  that 
when  he  heard  that  he  had  come  to  grief,  he  went  and  hunted  him  up. 

"Jesus  heard  that  they  had  cast  him  out;  and  when  he  had  found  him  [that  un- 
questionably conveys  the  idea  of  continuous  searching,  and  suspended  action,]  he  said 
'jnto  him,  Dost  thou  believe  on  the  Son  of  God?  He  answered  and-  said,  Who  is  ho,-  ■ 
Lord,  that  I  might  believe  on  him  ?  And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  thou  hast  both  seea 
him,  and  it  is  he  that  talketh  with  thee.  And  he  said.  Lord,  I  believe.  And  he  wor- 
shipped him." 

Contrast  this  man,  and  his  simple,  quiet  heroism,  with  the  proudest 
of  all  those  whose  history  has  gone  in  review  before  us.  How  much 
nobler  he  was  than  the  professional  teachers  of  morality !  How  much 
nobler  he  was  than  his  own  parents !  And  his  nobility  all  sprung,  not 
from  the  fact  that  he  was  wise,  that  he  had  knowledge,  or  that  he  had 
done  any  extraordinary  thing.  He  was  knowledgeable  but  to  a  very 
limited  extent ;  and  he  could  not  boast  of  any  great  achievements.  But 
he  stood  by  the  light  which  he  had.  He  did  not  wait  for  more.  He 
acted  according  to  the  full  light  that  he  possessed — which  is  more  than 
many  of  you  do.  You  want  to  wait  till  all  doubts  are  solved ;  till  you 
can  see  through  doctrines,  in  every  direction,  to  the  utmost  bound ;  till 
you  have  made  investigation  into  creeds,  and  into  churches,  and  into  ser- 
vices, and  into  ceremonies.  Very  few  men  are  willing  to  trust  the  simple 
light  and  testimony  of  their  own  consciences.  But  this  man,  without 
waiting  to  know  what  further  there  was  in  truth,  when  it  was  called  in 
question,  stood  up,  at  peril  and  risk,  for  it,  according  to  the  light 
which  he  had.  He  was  not  ashamed  of  his  Benefactor,  as  many  men 
are,  who  know  that  all  that  they  have  is  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  yet 


FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION.  429 

are  ashamed  of  God.  lie  was  not  ashamed  of  the  name  of  him  who 
had  healed  his  eyesight.  On  the  contrary,  he  bore  witness  of  that 
name  when  it  cost  him  all  that  life  was  worth  to  him.  Though  he 
was  cast  out  for  the  witness  he  bore,  he  still  remained  faithful. 

But  notice,  that  a  man  who  suffers  for  doing  what  is  right,  is  never 
so  near  to  God  as  when  he  seems  to  be  furthest  from  him.  This  man 
might  have  said,  "  Oh  !  why  did  he  come  near  me,  at  any  rate  ?  Why 
did  he  get  me  into  this  peril  and  difficulty  ?  He  had  better  left  me 
alone."  I  do  not  believe  he  ever  thought  of  it.  I  believe  the  nature 
of  the  man  was  such  as  to  lead  him  to  say,  "  I  had  better  be  a  whole 
man,  in  the  possession  of  my  senses,  if  I  do  starve,  than  to  sit  there  a 
miserable  cripple-eyed  beggar."'  He  loved  full  manhood,  and  large 
manhood,  and  sat  there,  doubtless,  thinking,  wondering  and  waiting ; 
and  the  Savioiu*  was  hunting  him  up ;  was  looking  for  him ;  was  fol- 
lowing him. 

Is  there  any  man  here  who  has  taken  one  single  step  in  the  direc- 
tion of  duty,  and  seems  to  have  got  into  difficulty  by  it  ?  There  are  a 
great  many  people  who  do  that.  I  know  men  who  undertake  to  make 
crooked  things  straight  in  money-matters ;  and  it  seems  as  though  they 
only  made  their  case  worse.  I  know  men  who  are  living  in  defiance 
of  the  laws  of  morality ;  and  the  light  dawns  on  their  minds,  and  they 
begin  to  act  according  to  their  secret  consciousness  of  right  and  wrong, 
and  they  seem  to  themselves  to  get  into  a  worse  place  than  they  were 
ever  in  before.  I  know  men  who  set  theu*  moral  sense  against  the 
domination  of  their  passions ;  and  it  seems  as  though  they  only  made 
their  passions  tyrannical.  Never  was  it  so  hard  for  them  to  refrain 
from  profanity,  never  was  it  so  hard  for  them  to  speak  the  truth,  never 
was  it  so  hard  for  them  to  keep  their  temper,  never  was  it  so  hard  for 
them  to  rein  in  their  imperious  appetites  and  passions,  as  when  they 
undertake  to  do  right.  The  first  steps  seem  to  themselves  only  to  sink 
them  deeper.  They  begin  to  see ;  but  they  ai"e  cast  out  of  symjmthy  ; 
they  are  cast  away  from  help,  apparently. 

No !  Never  has  a  man  undertaken  one  step  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  begun  to  suffer  for  it,  that  Christ  did  not  look  after  him. 
You  may  not  see  him ;  he  may  not  be  visible  to  you  just  yet ;  but  he 
is  on  your  track.  He  will  find  you.  Do  not  murmur,  do  not  repine, 
that  you  have  taken  one  step.  Do  not  be  sorry  that  you  have  begun 
to  see.     You  ought  to  have  seen  long  ago. 

Oh,  drunkard!  oh,  lustful  man!  oh,  illicit  lover  of  pleasure  !  oh, 
dishonest  man !  oh,  incipient  swindler !  oh,  perverter  of  the  young ! 
are  you  beginning  to  see?  And  does  it  seem  to  you  as  tJiough  the 
darkness  thickened  around  about  you,  and  as  though  the  difficulties 
were  more  than  you  ever  before  knew  them  to  be  ?     Do  not  be  dis' 


430  FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTION. 

couraged  nor  faithless.  The  Christ  that  has  led  you  so  far  is  not  going 
to  abandon  you.  He  stands  by  your  side  already.  So  far  you  have 
gone  in  your  own  strength ;  and  now  comes  Jesus  to  you,  who  has 
opened  your  eyes,  and  says,  "Dost  thoL;  believe  on  the  Son  of  God?" 
You  must  go  up  from  transgression  to  morality ;  and  you  must  go  from 
morality  a  step  higher,  into  faith. 

And  no  man  who  has  been  whelmed  in  wickedness,  and  means  to 
extricate  himself  from  it,  can  do  it  by  the  mere  force  of  his  own  reso- 
lution, or  by  his  own  volition.  A  man  must  have  power  to  take  the 
first  step  toward  his  own  reformation  ;  and  having  taken  that  first  step, 
he  must  take  the  second. 

Now  Christ  stands,  to-night,  by  the  side  of  every  man  who  has 
taken  one  step,  and  says,  "  Will  you  take  hold  of  the  hand  of  the  living 
God  ?"  And  are  you  not  willing  to  take  the  simple  step  which  this 
man  took  ? 

"He  said,  who  is  he,  Lord,  that  I  might  believe  on  him?  And  Jesus  said  unto 
him,  thou  hast  both  seen  him,  and  it  is  he  that  talketh -with  thee.  And  he  said,  Lord, 
I  believe." 

How  straight  to  the  mark  this  man's  thoughts  flew  !  How  true  his 
purposes  were !  There  was  an  essential  nobility  in  him.  He  was  a 
hero,  in  a  small  way — an  obscure  hero. 

"  ADd  he  worshipped  him.' 

I  would  rather  have  been  that  man  than  to  have  been  the  high- 
priest.  I  would  rather  have  been  that  man  than  to  have  been  Herod, 
or  any  of  his  Court.  I  would  rather  have  been  that  man  than  to  have 
been  Caesar,  who  was  reigning  at  Rome.  There  was  not  a  man  with  a 
crowned  head  or  with  a  sceptered  hand ;  there  was  not  a  man  deep  in 
treasure,  nor  a  poet,  nor  an  orator,  seeking  and  winning  praise,  in  all 
the  earth,  who,  after  all,  had  the  stature  of  this  ignorant,  simple-minded 
man,  who  was  true  to  the  light  he  had,  who  found  Christ,  and  knew 
when  he  found  him,  and  who,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child  that  when 
the  mother  opens  her  arms,  runs  to  her  bosom,  and  clasps  its  hands 
about  her  neck,  ran  to  Christ,  when  he  was  revealed  to  him,  and  threw 
his  arms  about  him,  and  loved  him,  and  was  saved. 

Ages  have  gone  past;  the  darkness  of  revolution  has  whelmed  the 
earth ;  but  still  rising  above  the  gloom  of  the  distant  past  is  the  light 
of  this  simple  example  of  fidelity,  of  willingness  to  know  Christ,  of 
willingness  to  believe,  and  of  willingness  to  worship. 

I  draw  near  to  every  man  who  is  periled  for  the  sake  of  the  truth, 
to-night,  and  say.  Do  not  be  afraid  of  being  cast  out.  No  matter  if 
your  church  does  disown  you  ;  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  mightier  than 
any  church.  No  matter  if  your  neighbors  do  desert  you  ;  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  more  to  you  than  all  the  men  in  any  neighborhood  or 
community  could  be.     No  matter  if  your  parents  foreswear  you  ;  the 


FIDELITY  TO  CONVICTJOK  431 

Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  better  to  you  than  parents.  No  matter  if  your 
own  selves  seem  to  sink  in  solitariness  and  in  darkness  ;  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  is  yours,  and  he  offers  not  simply  to  continue  his  past  mercies  to 
you,  but  to  take  you  by  the  hand,  and  lead  you  on  to  higher  and  nobler 
experiences.  Will  you  accept  that  Saviour  who  draws  near  to  you  to- 
night ■? 

Oh !  there  are  present  those  that  I  know,  and  there  are  here  still 
more  that  I  do  not  know  personally,  to  whom  my  words  are  as  pierc- 
ing as  a  sword.  There  are  consciences  that  rise  up  to  the  touch  of 
these,  truths.  There  is  a  consciousness  in  many  and  many  a  heart  that 
fairly  quivers  as  I  speak.  There  are  persons  within  the  sound  of  my 
voice  who  do  know  that  their  eyes  have  been  opened  ;  and  who  know 
the  state  that  they  are  in ;  and  by  their  side  stands  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
though  they  may  not,  for  the  moment,  know  that  it  is  he.  Their  very 
trouble  is  Jesus.  That  which  they  call  darkness  is  the  very  shadow  of 
God  which  falls  upon  them.  And  the  voice  of  God  comes  to  them,  to- 
night, and  says,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  the  salvation  of 
your  soul." 

Will  you  believe?  Will  you  look  up,  and  say,  "Lord,  I  believe," 
and  worship  ?  Do  that,  and  upon  you  shall  rise  the  blessing  of  Al- 
mighty God,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  if  you 
turn  away  from  Him  that  speaketh ;  if  in  this  soleTnn  hour  of  your  ex- 
perience, when  you  have  been  brox;ght  to  the  very  point  of  rectitude, 
to  the  very  point  of  reformation,  to  the  very  point  of  conversion — if 
now  you  turn  back,  you  put  Christ  to  an  open  shame  by  your  continual 
and  habitual  refusal ;  and  upon  you  must  rest  forever  and  forever  the 
consequence  of  this  refusal. 

Think  better  of  it,  and  make  this  night  the  night  of  your  emanci- 
pation. Throw  away,  to-night,  all  the  hindrances  and  all  the  obstacles 
that  are  about  you,  and  register,  as  youi*  vow,  Hencefoktu  I  am  the 
Lobd's. 


432,  FIDELITY  TO  COJS  VIGTION, 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK 

We  come,  0  blessed  Saviour!  in  the  familiar  way  of  our  own  experienee — the  way 
that  thought  has  trod,  the  way  of  the  angels'  flight,  the  way  of  sorrow,  and  the  way  of 
joy.  For  iu  joy  and  in  sorrow  we  have  prayed  unto  thee.  Angels  have  borne  petitions 
and  brought  back  answers  of  mercy.  And  ihou  thyself  didst  pray,  in  the  mountain,  and 
at  midnight,  and  often,  with  thy  disciples,  and  hast  taught  us  to  pray.  And  our  own 
hearts  have  sought  to  ease  themselves  in  trouble  by  prayer.  We  have  through  prayer 
made  known  our  gladuess  aud  our  gratitude  in  joys  that  lighted  our  world-face.  And  we 
have  found  rest  from  the  tongues  of  men,  from  the  fears  of  fortune,  from  the  importuni- 
ties of  our  own  passions,  from  all  that  can  harass  and  vex,  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of 
our  closet.  There  thou  hast,  revealed  thyself.  There  thou  hast  made  us  to  be  the  sons 
of  peace.  The  witness  of  the  Spirit  hath  been  given  us  that  we  are  the  children  of  God; 
that  we  are  of  the  household  of  faith.  And  thou  hast  made  it  sweet  to  pray.  Nor  can 
"we  refrain  from  praying,  always  and  everywhere,  our  very  thoughts  moving  as  in  choral 
gladness  in  the  recognition  of  thy  daily  presence  and  of  thy  daily  power  and  mercies. 

We  thank  thee,  O  Lord,  that  though  thou  art  not  visible,  thou  dost  communicate 
with  us,  by  thy  presence,  so  that  we  know  that  thou  art.  Thou  dost  speak  inwardly  to 
us,  not  as  to  the  body  by  the  lip,  but  by  the  Spirit  to  the  spirit.  And  we  know  that 
thou  art  near  in  love  to  refresh,  to  cheer,  to  encourage  hope,  to  rebuke  sin.  We  love 
thy  fidelity.  We  are  glad  for  thy  wholesome  strokes.  We  do  not  desire  a  Leader  that 
would  permit  us  to  wander;  a  Teacher  that  would  not  correct;  a  Parent  that  would  not 
chastise.    We  thank  thee  for  that  fidelity  which  brings  pain,  and  with  pain  healing. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  we  still  may  have  that  same  care.  Thou  hast  never  for- 
saken us,  nor  ceased  to  be  faithful.  We  desire  still  the  miniitratiou  of  pain,  burdens, 
yokes,  crosses,  the  rod,  thorns,  whatever  is  best.  What  didst  not  thou  bear  for  us? 
Shalt  thou  suiFer  for  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  we  not  suffer  for  our  own  sins  ?  Is  the 
disciple  better  than  the  Master? 

Oh !  may  we  rebuke  that  spirit  within  us  which  goes  forth  every  day  murmuring, 
and  wondering  why  we  are  dealt  with  as  we  are.  Give  us  a  more  wholesome  and  manly 
disposition,  that  wo  may  rejoice  to  suQor  with  Christ,  and  to  make  up  in  our  body  that 
which  was  lacking  in  his  suffering.  Grant  that  we  may  rejoice  to  be  called  the  disciples 
of  him  who  is  the  crowned  SuQ'erer.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  that  through 
Butfering  we  may  come  to  faith,  aud  patience,  and  stability. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanksgiving  for  all  past  mercies,  and 
our  ardent  desires  for  mercies  iu  days  to  come.  Lead  us  safely  through  this  li;e,  amidst 
its  care,  its  toil,  Us  danger,  its  piercing  temptations,  its  business  pleasures,  its  dissipa- 
tions, and  its  allurements  thereby.  Oh !  let  us  have  thy  sure  guidance.  Give  to  us  that 
inward  joy  which  they  have  who  know  that  Christ  is  the  Captain,  that  he  leads,  that  ho 
will  defend,  and  that  he  will  bring  victory. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  tliy  blessing  may  rest  upon  the  services  of  this  evening; 
upon  the  exposition  of  thy  word;  upon  our  service  of  devotion;  upon  our  thought  and 
meditation.  And  grant  that  all  the  blessing  of  the  Sabbath-day  may  not  expend  itself 
upon  this  day.  JMay  the  food  which  we  have  received  serve  us  to  go  many  days  down 
through  the  wildernes=.  May  we  carry  our  joys  out  of  the  sanctuary,  that  they  may  sing 
to  us  in  the  desolate  places  of  the  world.  May  we  comfort  one  another  with  truths  as 
])ngrim.s  that  walk  by  the  way.  And  so  may  we  cheer  and  strengthen  each  other's 
hands.  Thus  may  we  go  on  until  at  last  we  all  meet  in  the  heavenly  land,  to  recount 
our  toils,  aud  rejoice  in  our  victory. 

And  we  will  give  the  praise  of  our  salvation  to  the  Father,  the  Son  and  the  Holy 
Spirit.    Amen, 


Date  Due 


Mr  2 1  '% 

Ap  4  'i 


Ai:  3r54 


23B5TC.,  683 

03-«3-e532lW     ^ 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Libraries 


1    1012  01255  0606 


